


A LAWYER WALKS INTO A BAR

by boneshrine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bar/Pub, Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, M/M, Smut, unrealistic depiction of court and the law
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-06-05
Packaged: 2019-05-18 08:52:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 52,956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14849663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/boneshrine/pseuds/boneshrine
Summary: ...and takes the bartender with him when he leaves.





	A LAWYER WALKS INTO A BAR

**Author's Note:**

> prompt 79.
> 
> i'm so honored to finally, after watching since round 1, participate in chenpionships! i know i've said this before, but i really, really love the admin(s). thank you for your handholding.
> 
> prompter: there is a lot more plot here than probably either of us expected! i know you wanted bratty sub jongdae but he kinda ended up more brat than sub. forgive me?
> 
> disclaimer: my depiction of lawyers and law is pretty much based on ace attorney. additionally, i opted to forgo honorifics, but included words without direct translations (ex hyung). on a related note, there are jokes that play on english words because i have approximately 0 self control. to all of the readers, thank you for your suspension of disbelief!

Another attack today. It was after-hours at the Ministry of Justice, but Minseok had stayed late when the headlines broke: POPULAR HONGDAE NIGHTCLUB REVEALED TO BE ANOTHER YONGSUNG-PA FRONT FOLLOWING GRUESOME DOUBLE HOMICIDE. A crime syndicate operation being hidden under the guise of a nightclub wasn't surprising. What _was_ surprising was that it was Yongsung-pa of all gangs that was making the headlines. They were notorious for being hard to catch, keeping their dealings as clandestine as possible. But this was the sixth attack within the past two months that was affiliated with the Yongsung-pa.

It tied in directly to Minseok's current case, but it wasn't what he needed.

"This is useless to me." Minseok leaned back into his desk chair, arms folded. "The media is saying that it's Yongsung-pa because of the dragon tattoos found on the victims' bodies, but that's the only 'proof' they have. That's not enough to actually prove anything in court. No one is giving me anything substantial. I'm a prosecutor, not a miracle worker."

"You just need to wait a little longer," Sunyoung insisted. She sat on the cushioned chair opposite Minseok's desk, patiently scrolling through her phone as she waited to make sure Minseok got out of the office. Minseok didn't stay late often, but when he did, he had the habit of staying for hours, his competitive nature pushing him to research more, prepare more, set himself up to win whatever case he was tasked with. Sunyoung knew this; she had come in earlier with a pointed look and a stern _It's Friday, oppa,_ before sinking into one of the chairs, refusing to leave until Minseok did. "They wouldn't have hired you if they weren't confident in their lead."

She was right, of course, and Minseok wasn't impatient by any definition, but the whole situation seemed doomed from the start. "We haven't come close to touching the Yongsung-pa since 2005, when all of those businesses were raided suddenly." Minseok had been an undergrad in university at the time. He remembered watching the news reports, the interviews, remembered the contempt he had for the system that failed to indict these blatant criminals. "Those attacks were even bigger than this. If we didn't get them then, why would anyone think we'd get them now, when we have even less evidence to go off of?"

"Well, for one, they have you leading the case this time. You're the highest ranked prosecuting attorney that the Ministry has—no, that Seoul has. If anyone could put the Yongsung-pa behind bars, it would be you."

Minseok laughed. "I'm good at what I do, but that doesn't mean I can pull a guilty verdict out of nowhere. The Yongsung-pa has never been caught for anything substantial, not ever. They're too quiet, and too many people working the system have been paid for their silence."

"You accepted the case anyways."

Yes, he did, and he could pin that on his damn competitive personality again. He had found the email in his inbox two days ago, from someone representing the higher echelons in the Ministry of Justice, claiming that top law enforcement had reason to believe that they could prove in court the guilt of three high-ranking members of the Yongsung-pa. Money laundering, extortion, prostitution, drug smuggling; everyone knew what the Yongsung-pa and other jopok—organized crime syndicates, as opposed to street gangs—did behind closed doors. But no one had been able to drag their crimes into the light.

"The Yongsung-pa have gone above the law for too long," Minseok said. He swept up the files that were sitting on his desk, pressed them together neatly, and locked them in one of the drawers. "If they can give me anything substantial to work with, I promise I can get these thugs behind bars."

Sunyoung stood up with Minseok, looking pleased. "That's the oppa I know. They'll get you something!" She glanced at her phone one last time before slipping it back into her purse. "It's almost seven. Hey, we haven't been out to drinks in a while, have we? Should we stop somewhere before we officially end the week?"

Minseok considered. It was Friday; the only thing waiting for him at home was his Netflix account, and that could probably go unattended to for an extra hour or two. "Sure." They agreed that they would take their own vehicles and Minseok would follow her.

The mid-July humidity had Minseok leaving his suit jacket folded on the passenger seat of his car when he and Sunyoung reconvened in the parking lot of a hotel near by. "A hotel?" Minseok asked, quirking an eyebrow pointedly. He remembered hearing about this particular hotel, how it was expensive and definitely not in the budget of anyone below a mid-grade payscale. It did have good reviews, though.

Sunyoung shrugged and opened the door to the hotel. She must have had the same idea about the humidity; her cardigan had been removed at some point during the drive. "The lounge is open to the public. It has good reviews, and hotel bars are usually less busy on Fridays than traditional ones. This place doesn't open until after I get off work for the evening, so I figured if I stayed behind late today I might as well take advantage of it." Her heels clicked across the tiled floor. "The place is much pricier than a normal bar, but I'd say it's okay to splurge every once in a while."

The lounge was on the rooftop level; after exiting the elevators, the first thing Minseok saw was the stylized word "EℓyXiOn" branded in modern font over the open doorway; it should have been tacky, but the sleek gunmetal finish maintained its class. The room itself was dark, open, but in a way that was sultry and spacious rather than cavernous. The dim lighting manifested as yellow-tinted bulbs nestled into ceiling nooks and decorative candles; the underside of the bar counters and the panels below them also emitted a soft gold. In contrast, the liquor displayed on the giant shelf behind the counter sparkled almost threateningly under bright white lights positioned directly above them. A pair of bartenders slinked to and fro in front of the display like dark shadows. A handful of high-top tables were clustered farther back away from the entrance. The remaining seating arrangements consisted of low and sleek chairs, love seats, and sectionals that framed candle-topped tables. And although it was a hotel lounge and less busy like Sunyoung pointed out, it was still a Friday evening, and a fair amount of visitors occupied the chairs and sofas. Dressed sharply in dark colors and shining jewelry, these customers were also chic, classy enough to fit in, almost like they themselves were decor to further define the milieu.

The biggest selling point to the atmosphere was that the ceilings and walls were completely abandoned in favor of a glass dome. The backdrop of Seoul's night sky and skyscrapers garnished the modern vibe with a feeling of superiority, as though the patrons were on top of the world.

"Wow," Sunyoung said.

Minseok wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. As someone with money, it wasn't like he hadn't visited high-end places that were almost too pretentious to be truly inviting, but something about this Elyxion was enticing, seductive.

Taking up seats at the bar counter, Minseok inspected the array of alcohol. At a glance, the liquor display was well-stocked with international choices, the labels all in English, Italian, French. A small, earnest part of him yearned for plain soju. The larger, more urbane side of him had spotted the fernet and had already committed to it.

Then the liquor display was obscured by one of the bartenders. His features were blurred for a moment by the backdrop of the harsh lights above the display, but once Minseok's eyes adjusted, they focused on the thin mouth bordered on either side by a delicate curl, and, wow, Minseok was pretty philistine when it came to things like flowery words, but he probably could have written poetry about the length and thickness of the man's eyelashes. Suckerpunched by the full force of his immediate attraction, Minseok almost didn't match the sight of the man's lips moving with the sound of his voice, only tuning in to catch, ". . . get for you to start off?"

The man's brown hair had been swept back and sideways to show off most of his forehead and flat eyebrows in a stylish coif.

"Just a gin and tonic for me," Sunyoung said, never one to rely on sweet flavors to mitigate the taste of alcohol.

If the bartender was surprised at her taste, he didn't show it. "And you?" Those dark eyes flicked to Minseok, who was still trying to process the fact that cheekbones as sharp as this bartender's actually existed outside of manhwa.

Minseok forced the words to come out steady and unaffected, because he was a reputable thirty-three year old attorney and as such refused to let himself be flustered by the presence of a pretty man. "Your Fernet-Blanc, please."

The curl in his lips became more pronounced. Minseok had a distinct feeling he was being made fun of, but he couldn't discern the joke. "A gin and tonic and a fernet coming right up." The words were ostensibly directed at both of them, but he only looked at Minseok before flitting away to retrieve their drinks.

Minseok breathed in deeply, clearing out his thoughts. Alright, well. He was interested, there was no dodging that fact. And maybe he could gauge the bartender's interest, too—or, at least, try to pique it. Sunyoung struck up a conversation about her daughter's most recent incident involving the living room wall and a pack of crayons. Minseok responded where appropriate, but part of his attention was taken by the process of casually rolling his sleeves up to his forearms, observing the bartender's reaction as he did so.

He knew his assets.

The bartender returned soon after, sliding the glasses across the counter with a practiced gesture. Minseok watched carefully and, yes, there it was. The man's eyes flicked over Minseok's forearms before trailing up to lock gazes. The man's eyebrow raised and the corner of mouth quirked. Minseok made sure to keep eye contact as he raised the glass to his lips. "Thank you," he said deliberately.

The resulting smile was pleased, like the cat that got the cream, and even though he masked it with a confident mien, Minseok felt what control he had over the situation had been seized. "It's my pleasure," the bartender said. He didn't linger, sweeping along to refill a drink of a patron at the other end of the bar. Minseok shouldn't have noticed the way his black slacks gripped his hips, or the way his gray button-up clung to his shoulders.

When Minseok put his glass down, he realized that Sunyoung was openly staring at him. "What?"

She made an exaggerated glance towards the bartender, who was now laughing loudly at something a customer was saying. "That was . . . very blatant." Her glossed lips spread apart in a grin.

Minseok shrugged, not bothering to deny that he had been flirting. "He's cute. It's Friday. If I'm going to live a little, shouldn't it be on a Friday?"

The explanation was flimsy at best, but Sunyoung let it slide. They nursed their drinks between friendly chatter. Minseok's eyes kept finding their way back to the bartender as he flitted between patrons, serving cold drinks and warm smiles. His pulse raced a little faster every time their gazes met. The man's hair was swept back and sideways in a stylish coif, showing off his eyebrows, which emphatically slanted up every time he laughed wholeheartedly. It was sort of captivating. Minseok was suitably captivated.

Unlike other bars, the lounge was quiet enough that they could hear when Sunyoung's phone began to ring. "It's Jieun," she said. "Probably wondering where I am."

While she took the call, Minseok took out his own phone to give himself something else to focus on, not wanting to eavesdrop. He couldn't stop himself from listening when he heard the volume of Sunyoung's voice increase when she greeted, "Hello, my _beautiful wife!_ I'm just out with my _good friend and coworker_ Minseok . . ."

Minseok smiled. Even if he was just playing around, Sunyoung truly made the best wingwoman. She continued loudly emphasizing the fact that she was married, that Minseok was just a friend, and even if it didn't end up helping Minseok's cause, it did make his shoulders shake as he fought down a laugh.

"Is the fernet good?"

Minseok looked up into playful eyes. The bartender was tilting over the counter again. Minseok deposited his phone back into his lap. "Delicious," he replied.

"I figured you'd say that. The only people who order fernet are people who know they already like it. I'm Jongdae, by the way."

"Minesok," he said. "Are you saying that there's a type of person that prefers fernet?"

"Oh, all drinks have types." Jongdae leaned in closer. Distantly, Minesok could year Sunyoung saying something about Jieun's brother and his children, but it was hard to focus on the details now that Minseok could smell hints of Jongdae's cologne. "A person's drink says a lot about them. You'd be surprised."

Minseok breathed out a laugh and decided to take the bait. "Yeah? What does my drink say about me?"

"Well, I'm working right now, so I have to be professional and say it means you're cultured and probably have money."

Minseok remembered the hotel's reputation and what Sunyoung had said about the cost of the lounge itself. "Everyone here probably has money," he pointed out, "otherwise they wouldn't be here. What would you say if you weren't working?"

"If I wasn't working," Jongdae purred, "you and I would find something else to do besides talking about drinks."

If Minseok had been drinking at that very moment, he would have choked. As it was, he blinked wide eyes, hand stilling on his glass.

Jongdae didn't look self-conscious about the sexual implication. In fact, he looked even more amused, if possible. "What, you can dish it out but you can't take it? That's a shame."

Minseok found his voice after taking a moment to compose himself. He brought his eyes to his rolled-up sleeves and back up to Jongdae, the action slow enough to make his point. "So all it takes to earn a come-on from you is a little arm display and eye contact?"

Jongdae shrugged. "What can I say? I'm easy. And they're nice arms." He suddenly leaned back. "Do you want to open a tab?"

But Jongdae wasn't looking at Minseok anymore, and with a shock Minseok realized Sunyoung had finished his conversation with her wife and was watching the pair of them the way one might watch an exotic animal at a zoo, with equal amounts of fascination and amusement. "No, we're heading out." She looked at Minseok. "At least I am. Oppa . . . ?" Sunyoung wasn't the only spectator, though; the other bartender, unobtrusive thus far, was snickering under his breath as he blatantly watched the exchange.

"Yes," Minseok agreed. Flirting was fun, but he had no real intention of culminating . . . whatever distraction this was, especially not with an audience. He took out his wallet and offered up his card. "Hers, too."

Minseok and Sunyoung had been close friends for so long that the latter didn't even offer up a token objection to having her drink be paid for. It was tacitly understood that she would pay the next time they were out.

"Don't be strangers," Jongdae said as they stood up. Minseok flashed a smile back at him.

"Something tells me that he was talking to you and not me," Sunyoung said once they were in front of the elevator. Her tone was cheerful, her eyes twinkling.

There was no point arguing with that statement. They both knew it was true. Minseok shrugged and said, "It's just a little flirting," and that was that.

+++

It wasn't uncommon for Minseok to get calls right when the law firm opened at nine in the morning, especially not on Mondays, but he still internally groaned when the firm secretary transferred a call over to him immediately after he sat down at his desk. He hated coming back from a weekend and having to deal with people before having the time to review his cases. It made him feel unprepared.

"Ministry of Justice prosecution office, this is Kim Minseok."

"Minseok, this is Do Kyungsoo, Chief Superintendent General at SMPA. I'm the one directly in charge of the Yongsung-pa case."

The Chief Superintendent General? Minseok had worked with police officers that were high up in hierarchy before. It was inevitable, especially when working high-profile, often complicated cases for the capital. But he usually didn't work with top status individuals at the start of a case, during the investigation phase; the beginning stages of trials were often relegated to officers lower on the totem pole. And furthermore, Minseok had never worked directly with the Chief Superintendent General before.

"Good morning, Kyungsoo," he said cautiously. "What can I do for you?" He dug out his keys to unlock the drawer that housed his ongoing cases.

"I'm going to cut to the chase. I need you to come to the precinct."

It took Minseok a moment to process the request. "Pardon?" Minseok slowly closed the drawer. The precinct? He couldn't think of a reason why he would need to go there. To his knowledge, there had been no formal investigation opened up on the case yet.

"Our case is primarily reliant on a witness." There was a pause here, right before Kyungsoo said "a witness," as though that wasn't the right word. "Look, the matter is delicate. I'd rather explain it to you in person than over the phone or through email. Do you have time today to come down?"

Confused, Minseok agreed and hung up the phone with a promise to be at the precinct within the hour. He let the secretary know he'd be out for the rest of the morning, turned, and quite literally almost ran into Sunyoung.

"Where are you headed to already?" she asked, squinting at the car keys in Minseok's hand.

"It's for the Yongsung-pa case," Minseok said. "I don't have the details yet, but apparently they want to see me face-to-face."

"Who's 'they?'"

"The Chief Superintendent General."

She let out a long whistle. "They're really serious about this case, aren't they? They wouldn't bring in someone that high up if they were chasing jopok just for show." Then she smiled. "Remember what I said on Friday about being patient?"

"Yeah, yeah, you have time to tell me 'I told you so' when I come back." Minseok exited the building with a curt wave flicked over his shoulder, Sunyoung's pleasant laughter rolling behind him.

As it exclusively provided legal services to the city government, Minseok's office was close to other government-run facilities—namely, the police headquarters. The nine-to-fives were already at their destination for the day, so traffic had eased up, and the drive to the precinct was quick and easy. The SMPA headquarters was a graying building that, in Minseok's opinion, would have benefitted from updates in their architecture.

Minseok was only in the lobby for a minute or two before the source of his summons appeared.

Chief Superintendent General Do Kyungsoo was a man whose small stature did nothing to detract from his air of control. He had wide eyes that seemed to cut through Minseok, and his grip was firm, his hand cold. Everything about the man from his appearance to the way he spoke was filled with a solemn intensity. Minseok was surprised, but not displeased, when Kyungsoo bypassed small talk to curtly lead Minseok back to his office.

Kyungsoo shut the door behind them, gesturing at the pair of chairs facing a wide desk. "What do you know about the Yongsung-pa, Minseok?"

Minseok sat, folded his arms in front of his chest. Where was Kyungsoo going with this? "They're a very secretive group compared to other jopok. It's estimated that the bulk of their income is in the form of drug sales, prostitution, and 'protection' fees." Kyungsoo sat down in his own chair. He took out a pen and started weaving it through his fingers, twisting slightly in his chair, restless either because of the topic or because he rarely used his desk and was uncomfortable sitting there. If he had to bet, Minseok would put money on the latter; the office was rather impersonal. The desk chair Kyungsoo used didn't look half as comfortable as Minseok's, and there were no pictures on the desk, the walls, no artwork or embellishments of any sort. This was a room of utility, not invitation. With his grayscale outfit, he fit in perfectly in the philistine environment. "They can be identified by tattoos of dragons. And, of course, that they've been much more open about their dealings over the past few months. They haven't been this high-profile since 2005."

"Exactly," Kyungsoo said, setting the pen down with a loud thud. "And there's a reason for that. The Yongsung-pa is going through a change in hierarchy. Some members aren't happy with the way things are being run and are seeking to depose the current leaders. Their primary method of attack is to compromise their infrastructure. Public scrutiny is one of the most surefire ways to do that."

Minseok frowned. "That would just create a mess that they'd have to deal with themselves if their takeover is successful."

"I never said the method was a good one," Kyungsoo said, shrugging, "but it works to our advantage in the long run." He placed both of his hands flat on the desk and leaned forward a few centimeters. "The dissenters want a total restructure of the organization if they take over, and that they'll make their operations overt like the Ssangyong-pa and the other active jopok."

That didn't sound good, so Minseok didn't understand why Kyungsoo looked pleased. "And that is advantageous for us how, exactly?"

"It will make them much, much easier to catch."

An understanding dawned on him. "And that's why they want me to prosecute just the leaders. Get them out of the way, let the new order establish itself, and the rest can be settled outside of court because you'll have enough evidence to incarcerate them right there if they go public."

"Exactly." The edge of Kyungsoo's mouth twitched, like there would have been a smile there under other circumstances.

But there was still something unclear about all of this. "How do you know all of this information?" Minseok asked.

"That's the reason I wanted you to come to the precinct yourself," Kyungsoo said. He stood up. "Follow me."

Kyungsoo led him through the precinct, fielding off curious stares with polite nods and a brisk pace that didn't allow for idle chatter. Their destination ended up being a small room, the walls bare but with a cushioned couch and two armchairs framing a wide coffee table. A lamp glowed softly from an end table; while simple, the room was overall comforting, lulling.

Sitting on the couch was a man. His loose blue t-shirt and baggy sweatpants covered what Minseok could still discern as a lean body. His face was kind, mild, and oval in shape under his soft brown hair. As they entered the room, the man stood up to bow, a gesture Minseok returned but Kyungsoo did not. When the man rose, Minseok saw a very defined dimple indenting his right cheek. Was this man the reason why Kyungsoo wanted Minseok to come directly to the precinct?

"Minseok, this is Lay. Lay, Minseok is from the Ministry of Justice. He's representing the city of Seoul in the Yongsung-pa case."

"Nice to meet you." Lay's voice only added to his gentle mien. It wrapped around an accent that was distinctly Chinese.

"Let's sit," Kyungsoo said. After they were settled, Lay and Minseok on opposite sides of the couch and Kyungsoo in one of the armchairs, Minseok continued, "I want to get this out of the way. Lay is not this man's real name. We're giving him an alias for now, because we can't put him through our witness protection program completely until this case is closed. He's in what we call 'protective custody' for now. It has nothing to do with not trusting you; it's just procedure."

"Witness protection," Minseok repeated. "That means—?"

"He's testifying in your case," Kyungsoo confirmed.

A tendril of irritation whickered through Minseok. The existence of a witness seemed like something he should already have been informed of. He exhaled slowly before he spoke next. "What exactly have you witnessed?"

Lay looked hesitantly to Kyungsoo, a silent question about how much he was allowed to tell. Kyungsoo nodded and said, "He's our biggest chance at winning this case. He needs all the information you can give."

That seemed to embolden Lay, because he addressed Minseok next, voice slightly warmer than his temperate greeting. "The Yongsung-pa members that will go on trial are the three highest ranking in the Yongsung-pa hierarchy. They are mostly equal to each other in rank. But up until recently they were not three, but four. I was the fourth."

Minseok swore he could hear the gears turning in his head, like Lay was the missing cog in this whole situation. "You're in the Yongsung-pa."

"Was," Lay said gently. "I was in the Yongsung-pa."

"A plea bargain?" Minseok asked, gaze flipping between the two of them.

It was Kyungsoo who answered. "No. In exchange for testifying, Lay will receive blanket immunity."

Minseok's eyebrows shot up. Blanket immunity, or transactional immunity, would mean that Lay would be completely protected against any future prosecution related to the trial for which he testified. It was necessary, sometimes, but . . . "That seems extreme for an orchestrator of a crime syndicate."

"What we asked of Lay is extreme. The stakes are high," Kyungsoo said. His certainty sounded borne not of personal confidence, but rather a matter of fact.

"I don't know how much Kyungsoo has told you," Lay said quietly, "but there have been changes in the way the Yongsung-pa is run, and many members are dissatisfied with it. Their dissatisfaction almost costed me the life of my lover, another member."

"Lay originally turned himself in and offered to testify against the dissenters, who attacked him and his partner," Kyungsoo explained. "The SMPA almost went with that, too, but that would have been wasting a golden opportunity. Lay knows so much. It would have been foolish to not take advantage of that. So instead, we convinced Lay to testify against the remaining three presiding members of the Yongsung-pa, smoke the remaining members out into the open by taking advantage of the infrastructure falling apart, and end the gang altogether. In return, we grant him blanket immunity."

"And Zitao's," Lay added, a frown flavoring his words. "You said you would grant Zitao immunity." Zitao must have been the name of the lover Lay had mentioned, the one that almost died.

"I said I would try to at least get him partial immunity," Kyungsoo said. "It's already a lot to get immunity for you, and you turned yourself in. He's not as high ranked as you or the other three, but he's up there, and he's loyal to them. His fate rides on the results of this case itself, not your testimony. What I _can_ guarantee is his safety, if he cooperates."

"He was just a kid when he joined," Lay said, volume rising in plea. "He hasn't known anything else."

"We'll discuss it later," Kyungsoo said with finality. Lay looked more gloomy than angry when he put his head down. To Minseok, Kyungsoo continued, "Our case hinges on what Lay says. We want to keep him as safe as possible, seeing as any jopok is likely to seek retribution for any of their own turning against them."

"Or any of their own leaving at all," Lay murmured. "I tried to get Zitao to leave with me, but leaving is extremely difficult to do. Some of us—" His brows puckered together before starting again, correcting himself. "Some of _them_ have known nothing else besides the Yongsung-pa. They were picked up off the streets as kids, or have family who have been jopok for as long as they can remember. They don't know how to live a life outside of a gang; leaving is almost impossible for most of them. And even those who do try leave . . . well. They know too much, and there's always the fear that they'll share that knowledge with the wrong people, so . . ."

The implication suspended in the air like a thick liquid, ushering in with it an equally opaque silence. Minseok had heard stories of what gangs could do to those who tried to leave them. He might not have worked with a gang as under-the-table as the Yongsung-pa before, but at the very core of them, all jopok operated similarly.

"But you left," Minseok said. "And not only that, but you also turned yourself in."

Lay's fists clenched on his knees. "The members who are trying to overthrow the Yongsung-pa are dangerous," he said. "Tao and I have been together for a long time. There had been a few attacks that put us all on edge, but when someone actually broke into our house . . ." He took a moment to collect himself, shaking his head regretfully. "Tao studied wushu for years, and we're lucky he did, but he still took a bullet to the chest. He survived because of luck, nothing more. The doctor said if the bullet had been half an inch to the right, he wouldn't have survived. I won't let him get into a situation like that again. I _won't._ "

"You were in a gang," Minseok said, "but you had never faced a near-death experience?"

Lay's laugh was a sad, tired sound, but it was a laugh all the same. "We aren't what the movies make us out to be. Sure, there's violence, but that's our last resort, if it's on the menu at all. Or, at least . . . it _was_ our last resort, for a long time." His voice was still so soft. Was it always this soft, or did the topic make him quiet? "That's the biggest reason why so many members are unhappy with the way things are going. The other three leaders, they've been making some changes in procedures lately." Lay spoke slower now, picking carefully through his words with the same caution one would use while stepping through a minefield. "There have been a lot more corporeal deterrants than what we used to do, a lot more threats fulfilled than before, and it's disturbing to many members."

"Stop being flowery with your words," Kyungsoo said sharply. "Say what you mean."

They really were on opposite sides of the personality spectrum, Minseok thought wryly. On one hand, there was Lay, diplomatic and tepid; Kyungsoo, on the other hand, was driven, and he had no patience for beating around the bush.

Clearly uncomfortable, Lay mumbled, "Physical assault—and sometimes murder—is more common now, to the point where it's causing an uprise."

That didn't sound like the Yongsung-pa at all, but was congruent with the recent attacks. "Why?" Minseok asked point-blank.

"It 'gets results.' I don't agree with it; we do a lot of things below the law, but we're not murderers. That's what sets us apart from the other jopok: We stay out of the spotlight, and we don't kill people."

_Oh, sure,_ Minseok wanted to say, _but money laundering, prostitution, drug selling and transportation, possession of illegal weapons, extortion—that makes you a more morally upright person than a murderer?_ But it was hard to reconcile the Lay before him with the past identity of a pimp, a drug lord, or something else. Minseok had to remind himself that this was a witness; this was not a defendant. Minseok wasn't here to prove this man's crimes.

Kyungsoo stood up. "I'm sorry to cut this short, but we have other things to get to today. I wanted to introduce the two of you, and give Minseok a little more to work with than what we have given him so far." To Minseok directly, he said, "I took a look at the emails you were sent. They were shit."

The corner of Minseok's mouth tugged upward. He agreed, but it was refreshing to hear someone else say it in much less diplomatic terms. Throughout the conversation, Kyungsoo had displayed a no-nonsense personality that came with a distaste for pretense and professionalism, if it got in the way of frankness. It was oddly refreshing. "You could say that."

"I _am_ saying that," Kyungsoo bluntly said. "We're almost done with the profiles of the three leaders. It's been more difficult than expected to produce full reports, but we'll get them to you as soon as possible. What we do have for you, though, is the full reports about the attacks, with more information in them than the stories given to the media, plus a few other attacks that Lay knew about but weren't previously attributed to the Yongsung-pa, or didn't make mainstream news at all. Those reports will be forwarded to your email."

Minseok nodded before turning to Lay, bowing. "It was nice meeting you."

Lay stood up and bowed in return. "Thank you for doing your best on this case. I've heard good things about you. They say you're the best prosecutor the Ministry of Justice has ever seen."

"Maybe not the best," Minseok said, "but I'm good at what I do." And he was; Minseok was good, was great. That was part of the reason why he liked his job so much. Call it arrogance, but there was something extremely satisfying in getting that guilty verdict after working so hard to bring a criminal to justice.

On the way back to his office, a thought struck Minseok. He wasn't in any danger for taking this case, was he? Lay seemed convinced that, between the new ruthless nature of the upper ranks and the volatile rebellion below, the Yongsung-pa was more dangerous than ever before. Would they be brazen enough to attack the attorney prosecuting them?

It sounded like a challenge. Minseok liked challenges. The stakes were higher now than they usually were, but if he were to be honest with himself, he would admit that the thrill was addictive.

Sure enough, the documents depicting the recent attacks were waiting for him in his inbox, attached to an email sent within the last half hour. There were the reports about the six that had shown up on the news, but in addition to that, there were descriptions of four other recent incidents which could not have been traced back to the Yongsung-pa without Lay's help. Also attached to the email was a document detailing several other attacks done by the Yongsung-pa dissenters, but were never reported to the authorities; they had nothing but Lay's word to go off of. As such, there was no proof of any of these attacks, but it helped give Minseok a firmer idea of what he was dealing with.

If only he had those profiles. He still had next to no idea who exactly he was prosecuting. But what he did have now was more than he had even this morning, and it was enough to get him started.

Minseok spent his day thoroughly dissecting the reports, analyzing them piece by piece. Unsurprisingly, the police reports had a lot more details than the news had conveyed, and with Lay's perspective, he had a better idea of what references he would need to review for the trial. He didn't even notice when the lunch hour came and went until a brown paper pag was set on his desk. He glanced up to see Sunyoung smiling down at him.

"This morning must have given you a lot to work with," she said. She opened up the bag to pull out carryout boxes from the restaurant down the street. It smelled delicious, making Minseok suddenly aware of how empty his stomach was. "You're definitely in the zone."

Minseok almost started talking about there being a former Yongsung-pa member to provide testimony and information, but with Lay going into witness protection as soon as this was over, he figured it was better to play it safe and not mention any witnesses at all. "The police were able to illustrate all of the attacks with more detail than the media presented. It turns out there were a few more incidences that were never publically reported, too."

Sunyoung's eyebrows shot up. She sat herself down in one of the chairs facing opposite Minseok. As she spoke, she scooped out chopsticks and napkins from the bottom of the bag, giving a pair to Minseok and setting the napkins at the side of the desk. "Really? That's wonderful. Well, not wonderful that there are more attacks, but—you know."

Minseok laughed. "I hear you. What about you? How are your cases?"

Sunyoung got Minseok up-to-date on her own current cases. Unlike Minseok, she was a defense attorney, working to defend government workers and the city of Seoul itself; most of her cases involved people who felt they had been wronged somehow by the government. Also unlike Minseok, she had a strong sense of justice, taking on the role of a guardian, a warden.

It wasn't that Minseok didn't care about justice. He wouldn't have gone through law school if he wasn't at least somewhat interested in it. But if Minseok were being honest, he was more interested in the challenge, in the thrill of victory. Since he was young, he had been competitive in sports, academics, personal endeavors. It was logical that he would take that drive to win and transfer it to his career.

No one needed to know that his reasons for becoming a lawyer were more selfish than they were begot from any sense of justice.

When five o'clock rolled around, Minseok was still at his desk, going back and forth between the books and files neatly stacked in front of him and the documents pulled up on his computer screen. Sunyoung rapped on the door frame.

"It's closing time, oppa."

"It sure is," Minseok replied without glancing up. He made no move to lock up his papers or log out of his computer.

She sighed, stepping farther into the room. "Come on, it's Monday. You have the rest of the week to work on this case. It's certainly not going anywhere."

"I'm on a role right now," Minseok said dismissively.

"Minseok," she said.

Minseok finally looked up, smiling at the whiny tone that rarely snuck into her voice, and only ever around her close friends. "Go ahead and go home, Sunyoung. I won't stay for much longer. I really just have to finish this part now or else I'm going to keep myself up all night thinking about it."

Sunyoung seemed to accept this line of reasoning for a moment, nodding and turning to the door, before she stopped and whirled around again, eyes narrowed. "Tell me you're not just making excuses to wait here so you can go to that hotel bar when it opens and flirt with the bartender again."

Minseok blinked. He honestly hadn't thought of the bar at all today, he had been so consumed by his work. But now that it had been brought to his attention, the bar did sound like a good way to reward himself with his productivity today; a drink to unwind, and if Jongdae was there again, well, that would be a bonus. "I wasn't going to," he hedged. It was true. He originally _wasn't_ going to.

But Sunyoung caught onto the meaning, whether it be because she was a lawyer herself and had been trained to look for wordplay, or because she was Minesok's best friend. "Oppa," she groaned, but she was fighting down a smile, and Minseok knew he had won.

Grinning, Minseok said, "Go home, Sunyoung. I'll see you in the morning."

Sunyoung conveyed a final handful of token complaints, but she was eager to go home to her family after a long Monday, keeping her from lingering for too long. When he knew he was alone in the office, Minseok opened a new tab on his browser and searched "Elyxion." A slew of attractive photos and raving reviews popped up, but that wasn't what he was looking for. He browsed the hotel's website until he found what he was looking for: hours of operation. The bar didn't open until six pm.

He glanced at the time displayed at the corner of his screen. Alright, less than an hour to kill. Easy.

And it really was easy. Before long, Minseok had fallen back into his groove. An hour came and went, and it wasn't until almost seven that Minseok finally came back to himself. He was much more inclined to leave his office than he had been with Sunyoung trying to mother him out of the place, and he was packed up and on the road within minutes.

And then, he was there. He preemptively rolled up his sleeves again in the elevator, undid the top button of his shirt, rolled his shoulders back. The doors opened. He walked in.

It was a Monday, so the bar was lacking well over half of the patrons that attended it on Friday. A handful of white collars, unwinding from the challenges of the beginning of the work week, were scattered about the room, but otherwise the place was abandoned.

Jongdae, the only bartender from what Minseok could see, was there, too, holding a tablet computer and frowning at it. His moue was still framed by his trademark corner curls, and it made for an adorable expression, the kittenish mouth and the frustrated slants of his brows. So focused was he on the screen that he didn't notice Minseok approaching. The lawyer slid onto a seat near where Jongdae was standing, waiting patiently for the bartender to notice him. When he did, he blinked rapidly a few times before his pout split into a grin. "Back so soon?" He made a show of leaning from side to side, eyes scanning the background. "And alone?"

"What can I say? You left a good impression. I was eager to come back. The fernet can't be the only good thing here." He slowly raked his eyes up and down Jongdae's body to emphasize that he wasn't just talking about alcohol. He had been out of the game for far too long. It was exhilerating to play it again.

Practically preening under the attention, Jongdae bent down closer to Minseok over the counter. "You don't want the fernet again? Trying to avoid the pretentious, too-rich-for-his-own-good image this time around?"

That startled Minseok into letting out a laugh that might have been too loud for the bar's atmosphere. "I thought you said it made me look _cultured._ "

"I said that's what I have to say when I'm working."

"You're working now," Minseok pointed out.

"Yes, but you're not ordering the fernet this time, so it doesn't apply to you anymore, does it?"

"It probably does at least a little bit," Minseok conceded.

"At least you can admit it." Jongdae straightened, tapping his fingers against the counter. "So, no fernet. Then what can I get for you today, Minseok?"

Although Minseok hadn't truly thought Jongdae would forget his name, he was still pleased that the bartender didn't need a reminder. "Actually, I know this is a high-end bar, but do you have just plain soju?"

"Soju, huh?" Jongdae said. His smile now was small and soft, easing his smoulder into something tamer. "We may be 'high-end,' but we're still a bar in South Korea. On the rocks?"

"Somaek, please. I'm driving tonight. I'm here to unwind, not get hammered."

There was a cabinet under the liquor display; Jongdae turned and stooped to open it, and, wow, those slacks made his ass look delicious. He resurfaced with soju bottle in one hand, a glass in the other, and Minseok took his time dragging his gaze up Jongdae's body, finally settling on smirk on his face as Minseok let himself be caught staring. And, oh, it suddenly an idea hit Minseok like a pile of bricks. "Jongdae," Minseok started, making sure he had garnered the bartender's attention before continuing, "you've seemed receptive so far, but is this—" He gestured between them. "Okay?"

Jongdae deadpanned at him. Even while his face was statuesque, his fingers continued deftly making Minseok's drink. "You're going to have to elaborate."

"The flirting. You know: 'The sleazy lawyer keeps harassing the bartender who is too nice to tell him to go away.' If you want me to stop, I definitely will. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

Jongdae didn't answer right away. Instead, he took his time returning the bottle of soju to the cupboard. Finally he pushed the glass to Minseok, but when Minseok went to take it, he gently wrapped his hand around Minseok's wrist.

"That could go both ways," Jongdae said in a low, quiet voice. Minseok's pulsed thrummed under Jongdae's touch. "'The sleazy bartender won't stop hitting on the pretty suit.' Except the pretty suit came back, so I'm not worried about that on my end." The way his mouth moved was tantalizing. "And you—" Jongdae's finger slowly slid over the bone protruding from Minseok's wrist. "— _definitely_ don't need to worry about the 'nice' bartender wanting the lawyer to go away."

Jongdae let go, fluttering away again to attend to another patron who was in need of a refill. Minseok blinked at where Jongdae had just been standing. It took a lot to trip him up, but he felt distinctly swindled. This back-and-forth flirting was a game, and Minseok, much to his dismay, was losing.

Luckily, the ball was in his court now.

He sipped at his drink while waiting for Jongdae to come back, willing it to last as long as possible; he wasn't going to stay for another, not on a Monday. He didn't have to wait long.

"So you're a lawyer?" Except it lacked uptalk, leaving it to sound more like a statement than a question. A conversation starter.

"Prosecutor," Minseok confirmed, "for the Ministry of Justice."

"Sexy. I bet you look hot putting the bad guys in their places."

"I bet I look better putting shameless bartenders in their places," Minseok said without missing a beat, hiding his salacious grin behind his glass. The sound of Jongdae's pleased laugh, unhampered, filled the bar, loud enough that a few people looked over, and it was a thrill, the way his eyebrows suddenly slid up, moved by surprise and amusement. It was entrancing. _Jongdae_ was entrancing. Minseok spent the rest of the night trying to draw out the sound of his laughter again, earning himself hot gazes and slanderous suggestions along the way. He dragged out his drink as long as he possibly could and then left a generous tip to make up for the lack of orders in proportion to his length of stay.

"Come back soon?" Jongdae asked.

"Couldn't keep me away," Minseok promised. Jongdae's brilliant smile held no trace of the lechery it had all night, and Minseok fell asleep that night thinking about it.

+++

_Minseok,_

_Here are the profiles of the three Yongsung-pa members we're targeting. They are as complete as I can make them for now without farther investigation, but if you have any questions, you can reach me at the number below, and I'll try and answer what I can. The offical go-ahead for government searches on these three should be coming down any day now. We'll keep you updated._

_Kyungsoo_

If Minseok had any less self-restraint, he would have burst at the seams. This was it; this was the piece of information he had been waiting for. He sent a short message to the secretary informing her to send all calls directly to his voicemail unless there was an emergency before opening the files.

The first document was the profile of a man named Cho Kyuhyun. The name was familiar to Minseok: one of those socialite investors with deep pockets, even though it had always been unclear exactly how those pockets were being filled. His status as a jopok boss answered the question of his monetary source. There were a few suspicious tax records attached. Lay had written down different aliases he held bank accounts under, but these would be unable to be investigated until search warrants were issued.

The next profile: Jung Soojung, who often went by the alias Krystal. Minseok was impressed; it was hard enough clawing up the hierarchy of a criminal syndicate, but to do it as a woman in an openly misogynistic field? That was near impossible. As a rule of thumb, Minseok didn't have a lot of respect for any criminal, but it would serve him well in this instance; it would keep him from underestimating her. Compared to Kyuhyun, there was next to no public information on Soojung at all, but Lay had noted a few clubs, hotels, and facilities that were unofficial but well-known fronts for prostitution and gambling were directly affiliated with her. 

The last document profiled Lu Han, known mononymously as Luhan. Chinese, like Lay. Similar to Soojung, there was little information on Luhan, but Lay reported that he was mostly involved in extortion and drug smuggling, and gave a list of places to start looking for evidence of his activity. At the bottom of the profile was a note:

_I am closest with Luhan out of all of them. He'll probably take my leaving personally. If aggrivated, I'm worried that he'll do something to Zitao to get back at me. Please be careful._

Minseok ruminated on that note, undoubtedly added by Lay, for a little while. Even if it was in the name of eventual safety for the both of them, Lay was doing something that potentially put his lover in even greater danger than before. And, no matter how competent the SMPA was capable of being, there was always the chance that Lay's identification got out. If the Yongsung-pa knew the location of their turncoat, they would be out for blood.

The new information regarding the defendants was enough to keep him occupied for the rest of the week, along with the trickling but steady flow of updated information as the SMPA investigated what they could without a warrant. Though not nearly half as glamorous or challenging, Minseok had other cases he was involved in as well, and they went faster than the Yongsung-pa one, cycling him in and out of the courtroom in what felt like no time at all. At the end of the day, he would often bring himself to the gym to counteract the lethargy that stagnated him when he was trapped in the office.

July sludged into August, bringing higher temperatures but no relief from the humidity. On the first Wednesday of the month, Minseok finally broke free from the home to office pendulum by bringing himself back to Elyxion. He considered inviting Sunyoung, but admitted to himself that he wanted to focus completely on Jongdae. He had missed the flirty banter. A third party would put a damper in that back and forth play. He promised to himself that he would take her out to dinner one of these days to make up for it, even if he didn't tell her why.

But it turned out he didn't need to worry about a third party. When Minseok stepped into the bar, Jongdae was nowhere to be found. Minseok was already there, though, and it was bad patronage to just leave, so he sat down and waited for one of the two bartenders to notice him.

"Oh, you're the lawyer. Jongdae's not here today."

"I can see that," Minseok replied. Apparently Jongdae talked about him to his coworkers, and Minseok didn't want to parse through what that meant, even if it had his heart beating faster. It took him a moment to make the connection, but he recognized the bartender in front of him as the one who was working the night that Minseok and Sunyoung had first came in, the one who had laughed at them from the other side of the bar. The man was tall, most of his height seeming to be from his legs. His eyes were big, his ears bigger, and his hand completely engulfed the glass it held. Combined with the comparatively young face, the man looked like a big anthropomorphized puppy. Jongdae's feline face came to mind. Was it a requirement to have animalistic features to be hired here?

"I'm sure you're disappointed, but I for one am glad you came in when Jongdae isn't around for once, because it means I get to serve you, which means that I get to tell you the joke that I've been saving for a lawyer."

"Pardon?"

"A lawyer walks into a bar," the bartender said, obviously expecting Minseok to keep up. He waited an appopriate amount of time before delivering the punchline: "Because he didn't pass it." Another pause. "Get it? Like he didn't pass the bar exam?"

Minseok _had_ heard that one, because he was friends with Sunyoung, and she seemed to know every bad joke in existence. But before Minseok could relay as much, the other bartender had smacked the first in the ass with a small towel, making him yelp. "Chanyeol! Quit annoying the customers."

"But noona," he whined, "this is Jongdae's lawyer. I _have_ to annoy him. It's in the best friend rulebook."

"Jongdae's lawyer?" she said, interest coloring her voice. Her refined features proved that, no, Elyxion didn't just hire pretty boys with appearances characteristic of animals. The curves under her eyes made them look like they were smiling, and the actual smile she flashed at Minseok contained the straightest, whitest teeth he had ever seen. Her black hair was swept off of her neck in a bun, a style reminiscent of Chanyeol's and Jongdae's own artfully tousled looks, baring the line of her throat and sparkling earrings. "Ah, you must be Minseok. It's nice to meet you. I'm Victoria."

Aware of how "someone's lawyer" as a title could be misconstrued, Minseok swiftly said, "He didn't hire me or anything, I'm just . . . his regular, I guess." He had only been here twice, but he was already as committed as a regular, so it wasn't lying, he supposed.

"Oh, we know, _Minseok,_ " Chanyeol said with a grin, overenunciating his name like it was something scandalous.

"Jongdae's going to be very disappointed to hear that you stopped by to see him while he wasn't here," Victoria said.

Minseok knew he wasn't fooling anyone, but felt like he needed to say it for the sake of modesty. "I'm not just here for Jongdae."

"Aren't you?" Victoria asked, her smile saccharine. Then, to Chanyeol: "Serve him his drink, and then stop finding ways to avoid doing stock." Her heels clicked across the floor as she moved down the bar.

Minseok sighed dramatically, but smiled to Minseok. "She pretends to be a hardass, but she's really the nicest boss ever."

"Noted," Minseok said, amused.

"I'm just saying, if Jongdae were to hypothetically be caught in a compromising position with a customer while on the clock, he probably wouldn't get into trouble for it. Not any real trouble, anyways."

"Chanyeol," Victoria warned.

"What can I get for you tonight, sir?" Chanyeol asked cheerfully, straightening out his posture.

"Just something on tap, please, surprise me," Minseok said. He definitely was not imagining different "compromising positions" he and Jongdae could possibly get caught in while at Elyxion, because that was also bad patronage, probably.

+++

Without the search warrants, there wasn't much else the SMPA could do to get Minseok any more evidence beyond what they had already offered him. Minseok balanced his current caseload with going over different materials involving money laundering, prostitution, drug smuggling, anything that the three Yongsung-pa defendants could be tied up with.

At the end of the work week, Minseok found himself loitering in the office after closing hours, and he genuinely didn't know if it was because he was loathe to leave his work or if, subconciously, he had decided to go to Elyxion. Regardless of his intentions, instead of driving home, he wound up at the bar that night.

It was packed. He didn't recall it being this populated when he and Sunyoung had visited that first Friday. Jongdae, looking as delectable as ever, was at the bar with Chanyeol, scurrying back and forth, glasses and bottles balanced in their hands. Over the blended drone of the crowd, Minseok could hear them trading jokes and good-natured insults.

Chanyeol spotted him sitting at the end of the counter first. His other facial features seemed to scrunch together to make room for the wide grin of his mouth. "Hey, Jongdae, your lawyer is here!"

In the middle of mixing some colorful drink, Jongdae glanced up, eyes scanning the counter before focusing on Minseok. He shot the lawyer a smile, but he was too far away to say anything audible without shouting. The next few minutes required Jongdae's attention to stay with the other patrons, serving drinks and charming them into ordering more. Minseok altered between checking social media and watching him.

Finally, Jongdae made his way over. "Welcome back." His smile was on full power today. His voice was quieter now than it was with the other patrons. It added an element of intimacy; the lack of volume would keep them from drawing attention from others. "I heard you came by to see me on Wednesday. It's a shame I wasn't there."

There was no point in denying anymore that it was indeed Jongdae that had Minseok at Elyxion, not the drinks, not the atmosphere. He wanted to ask point-blank if Jongdae normally had Wednesdays off, but didn't want to feel like he was overstepping his boundaries somehow, like he was stalking; it didn't matter if Jongdae was receptive to Minseok's attention. Minseok wasn't a creep. Instead, he carefully skirted, "Should I not come on Wednesdays anymore?"

Jongdae hummed. "No. You should come on Tuesdays, when we're the least busy and I'm working."

Minseok let out a breathy laugh. "I can make that work."

Leaning closer, Jongdae asked, "You know what else you should do?" Mirth twinkled in his eyes, lashes dark around them, long enough to cast little shadows when his face was angled down like this, equal parts inviting and coy.

"What else should I do?" Jongdae's kitten mouth was so close. He pictured for a moment kissing them, but didn't dwell on the thought. Now was not the time, and here was not the place.

"You should give me your phone so I can put my number in it."

Obviously Jongdae didn't have the same reservations that Minseok did. With that suggestion, any questions of whether or not the bartender was actually interested or just toying with him were dispelled. But did _Minseok_ feel like escalating this any farther? It had been fairly harmless to start. Sure, innuendos bounced back and forth between them like tennis balls in a court or white lies in a courtroom, but neither of them had acted upon any of it. Now their interactions would no longer be limited to Elyxion. Minseok rapped his fingers across the countertop, considering him for a long moment. A flicker of doubt crossed Jongdae's face, pinching his eyebrows up for less than a second; that was enough to convince Minseok to hand his phone over.

Satisfaction curved Jongdae's mouth and eyes. Minseok watched as Jongdae pulled up a new contact entry. He couldn't see the name he gave himself, but he did see the telltale blue of the splash emoji he put at the end of it, making Minseok laugh incredulously. The moment Jongdae was done, he opened Minseok's camera app to take a picture of himself. Minseok raised an eyebrow but let Jongdae do as he pleased, trying to taper the swell of endearment he felt.

When Jongdae finally gave Minseok his phone back, the bartender was set as Minseok's home screen, replacing his nondescript gray tile background. "So you don't forget about me when you're not here," Jongdae said, as though Minseok could. "Now, what can I get for you? Soju again tonight?"

"Please." While they talked, Minseok worked on rolling up his sleeves. His motive wasn't to entice Jongdae this time, but rather to relieve some of the heat the many bodies around him emitted. It was an added bonus that Jongdae's eyes shamelessly appreciated the view. "Not clean, though, I'm driving home again." He gestured towards the crowd. "I'm probably not going to stay long."

"Do you like fruity drinks?"

"I don't usually like sweet things." He paused. Then he added, "There are exceptions," throwing in a wink to make his point clear.

Jongdae laughed. "I have something I want you to try."

That was how Minseok ended up with a cocktail made with soju, Sprite, and a smashed grapefruit popsicle. The grapefruit added a light fruity flavor without any of the sweetness that normally turned him off. He was impressed, and Jongdae was pleased at the compliments Minseok offered.

Jongdae wasn't able to stay and talk for much longer. He had allocated all the time that he could justify to Minseok, and the demands of his job soon lassoed him back. They exchanged a few flirty quips, all mild by their standards, but Minseok didn't try to lure him over, and for the most part, Jongdae kept his attention on his work. But when Minseok left, he left with a new contact on his phone and anticipation in his veins.

+++

_Minseok,_

_The search order was passed first thing this morning. We managed to get a delayed consent warrant. We're organizing our investigation now. Things should pick up the pace soon. Hopefully, to our advantage. I'll let you know how things are going._

_Kyungsoo_

Minseok relayed the information to Sunyoung while they were on their lunch break. "I'd say that it's about time," she replied, "but this is actually pretty fast for the SMPA."

"There's usually a lot more red tape to get through," Minseok agreed. They were at Sunyoung's favorite cafe, a place down the road from the Ministry of Justice known for their fresh ingredients and energetic staff. Combined with the humidity, the heat was still grossly oppressive, so they avoided the outside seating area, choosing instead a nice, air-conditioned corner table in front of a window.

"We complain about the administrative formalities in our division of the government, but the SMPA is no joke."

"I suppose they have to be stringent. They have a lot of authority, even more than we do, in many ways. It needs to be moderated as much as possible."

"That's actually a problem in one of my cases right now. A client accused someone from the Ministry of Agriculture, Food, and Rural Affairs for misusing relief funds for the Pohang earthquake last year. And, the thing is, all the evidence points to the defendant really doing it, even if he completely denies it." She sighed. "I hate getting defendants who committed the crime they're being tried for. I'm their lawyer, I'm supposed to defend them, but I think criminals need to be brought to justice, especially in the government. I'm one step away from turning the case completely over to the Anti-Corruption and Civil Rights Commission. But it looks so bad to the public if the Ministry of Justice can't even defend its own . . ."

Minseok hummed sympathetically but offered no comment. In reality, he couldn't relate to Sunyoung's moral dilemma. There had been many cases for which he had served as the prosecution while knowing that he was accusing someone who he believed to be innocent. But this was his job. He was playing to win, which didn't always mean fighting for justice. He wasn't completely without shame, though; he sought milder sentences for those who were likely innocent of what they were being convicted for. But a guilty verdict was still a guilty verdict. A guilty verdict was still a win.

After swallowing a bite of her sandwich, Sunyoung's voice became brighter. "But let's not talk about work when we're not even in the office. Let's talk about something else, like . . ." She drew out the word long as though pondering her next word, even though her light tone conveyed that she already knew where she was going with this. "Oh, I know! That cute bartender from the hotel."

The "cute bartender from the hotel" had been texting Minseok all weekend. Their messages were mostly innocuous things like what their favorite foods were, what they were doing at any given moment, their ages ( _33? i would have guessed late 20s. i'm not even 30 yet, i think i'm robbing the grave_ he had texted, as though his own age of 28 gave him that much more time to be a part of the under-thirty crowd), but it was still something more tangible than the come-ons they had been tossing back and forth thus far. In just a couple of days, Minseok had learned things about Jongdae like that he had wanted to be a ballad singer when he was a kid, he missed his parents' cooking, and on his days off, he liked lazing around the house more than going out. He was just as flirty in text as he was in-person, if not more so, now that he had time to think of witty innuendos before typing them out. In return, Minseok made sure to give as good as he got.

"We've been talking," Minseok said, shrugging.

"Talking?" Sunyoung asked. She playfully knocked one of her feet against Minseok's shin, a nudge for more information. "Talking as in it's an ongoing thing? Are you seeing him outside of the bar?"

"We're not seeing each other, but we did exchange numbers, so we've been in contact. It's not a big deal."

"Is this a potentially serious thing, or just sexual thing?"

"I'm not sure yet," Minseok said honestly. "I'm pretty sure it's a sexual thing."

"Are you okay with that?"

He hadn't given it that much thought. Jongdae was fun and offered an opportunity to relieve stress, a distraction from the stress of his job, but didn't express any interest in commitment. On the other hand, he hadn't explicitly said he was _against_ it. For all Minseok knew, though, there were multiple other customers that he flirted with or gave out his number to. Minseok thought about his answer while he chewed. "I think so," he finally said. "But regardless, I haven't really given any thought to taking it farther than it is right now." Between the casual conversation and the unconsumated flirting, Minseok was satisfied with the current state of their relationship.

Contrary to his own thoughts, though, apparently Jongdae _had_ thought about taking it farther.

They went their separate ways after their lunch, with Sunyoung returning to the their offices while Minseok made his way to the court building. He had a trial coming up soon, and he always made a habit of arriving early to prepare himself. As he reviewed his documents, his phone vibrated once in his pocket. He didn't look at it at first, too focused on his work. He needed to be as prepared as possible; even though he knew he really didn't need to look over things once more, it made him feel more comfortable, confident. His phone buzzed again about a minute later, then once more in quick succession.

There was only one contact in Minseok's phone that texted in rapid succession, and it was coincidentally the most distracting individual in his life at the moment. He brought out his phone to turn it off, and couldn't help but grin at his wallpaper: still a picture of Jongdae, the one he himself had set a few days ago. Minseok's finger hovered over the Do Not Disturb button, but he ended up switching his screen over to his messages. It couldn't hurt to just check.

It was a mistake.

The first text was innocent:

_> (1:36 PM) do you ever wake up with bruises that seemed to appear out of nowhere? like, you don't remember how you could have possibly gotten them_

The next text was a picture.

_> (1:38 PM) [Attached image]_

Jongdae had taken a partial body shot, the top of it being his chin and mouth before cutting off the rest of his face. His torso was bare, revealing a vast territory of smooth skin that Minseok would not have minded mapping out, a trail of hair on his lower abdomen, and twin pebbled nipples. There was, indeed, a brown mark the size of a one hundred won coin sitting just above the jut of one of Jongdae's hip bones. Ostensibly, that was the intended main focus of the image. But the frame went beyond his hips. His sweatpants clung around the clear shape of an erected cock, and it was so, so glaringly obvious that this was the true reason Jongdae texted him about the bruise. It was an excuse to tease. Minseok was already imagining encircling it with his hand, his mouth. He stared at the image for a longer time than probably necessary before looking at the next text message.

_> (1:38 PM) see? i'm sure it wasn't there last night_

Jongdae didn't comment on his morning wood himself, but knowing him, knowing how he liked to taunt, he probably wanted Minseok to notice it, to instigate something. Minseok smirked to his phone, already typing out his reply. He knew indulging this when he should have been getting his mind into lawyer mode wasn't the best of ideas, but the case he was about to enter trial for was one he had already won in everything but name. He could afford this distraction. If Jongdae wanted to play, Minseok would play.

_(1:42 PM) Bruises don't form right away. Maybe you bumped your hip on something last night and don't remember it. <_

_> (1:43 PM) i don't remember bumping it though...  
>(1:43 PM) [Attached image]_

The next picture was lower this time, capturing from Jongdae's nipples downward. There was a hand grasping Jongdae's erection through the sweatpants, folding the fabric even closer around it. Heat flared through Minseok's veins. He sent another text before looking at it again.

_(1:44 PM) Maybe you somehow did it in your sleep. <_

_> (1:46 PM) maybe  
>(1:46 PM) [Attached image]_

Jongdae's cock was pulled up under the band of his sweatpants so that the head poked out, flushed pink and starved for touch. Minseok imagined tracing it with his tongue and licked his lips. This little bartender was going to be the death of him.

_(1:47 PM) I heard somewhere that the older you get, the easier you bruise. <_

_> (1:47 PM) damn it hyung i'm trying to sext with you and you're sitting here calling me old_

Minseok laughed out loud, feeling victorious.

_(1:48 PM) Don't stop on my account. <_

_> (1:49 PM) [Attached image]_

Fully drawn out now, Jongdae's cock stood hard and heavy in his grip. Before he could fully appreciate the image, he saw the defense attorney for his case step out of the elevator down the hall. They exchanged cordial nods; there was the implicit understanding that a plea bargain would be made today.

_(1:50 PM) Pretty. I'm heading into the courtroom now, so I have to turn off my phone. Think of me when you come. <_

He powered down his phone before he could receive any reply. Instead of distracted, the exchange had him feeling confident, and it showed in the courtroom. The trial was over almost right after it started with the judge delivering the guilty verdict swiftly and decisively. Minseok let the light sentence pass, in too high spirits to chase after something harsher.

After the trial, he returned to his office to lock away the documents he had used and check his email. He left work a little before closing and went straight to the gym to work off the extra adrenaline that had him feeling like he would vibrate out of his own skin at any moment. It worked, to an extent; the energy cooled down into someting calmer but heavier, as the confidence left behind as its residue settled deeply into his bones. He took his time in the shower at home, washing off the sweat, jerking off the tension. Only then did he turn his phone back on.

_> (1:50 PM) good luck!  
>(1:55 PM) [Video attachment available for download]_

And, oh, _oh._ Minseok's knee bounced as he waited for the video to load on his phone. Then, pixelated at first, becoming clearer after a few seconds, there was Jongdae's dick again, wrapped firmly in his hand as it stroked up and down the shaft. There were puffs of air coming from beyond the field of vision, slightly labored, but overall there was no urgency to this. Jongdae was jerking himself off idly, without any goal of coming on camera for Minseok. He shouldn't have felt as disappointed as he did, considering he didn't encourage Jongdae earlier.

_> (2:04 PM) thought of you  
>(2:04 PM) [Attached image]_

Jongdae's spent, red cock rested on his stomach, white splattered across his abdomen, the end result of his pleasure. A satisfaction of a different kind crept up Minseok's spine before spreading into his mouth as a smile. There was only one new text from Jongdae since then:

_> (4:44 PM) are you coming to the bar tonight?_

Hm. Jongdae would already be on his shift by now, and Minseok was already in his pajamas for the night.

_(7:13 PM) Not tonight, sweetheart. I promise I'll come visit you tomorrow.  
Thank you for sending me all of those today. You spoil me. <_

He probably wouldn't see the text until the end of his shift, though. Minseok ate dinner, went through his nightly routine, and fell asleep earlier than usual, worn out by his work out and the excitement made by the trial and his interactions with Jongdae. He woke up in the morning to two text messages:

_> (2:19 AM) looking forward to it  
>(2:26 AM) i can't tell if you calling me sweetheart is cute, hot, or annoying :/_

There was no news from Kyungsoo that day; the SMPA was at the very start at their investigation, if they were able to start yet at all, so Minseok wasn't expecting any updates until the very end of the week at the earliest. His other cases kept him busy, but only barely; his mind wandered often to the bartender.

He followed through with his promise of going to Elyxion that night, opting to invite Sunyoung, who was almost too eager to tag along. Minseok suspected that she was more interested in meeting "that cute bartender from the hotel" again than drinking, this time with the cynical assessment of a best friend, but that was fine. Jongdae was right about Tuesdays being far less busy than Fridays. Only a handful of people occupied the bar, and many were without companions, choosing to nurse drinks by themselves while staring blankly at their smartphones. Behind the counter, Jongdae put drinkware away in their rightful places. Chanyeol was here again as well, charming a pair of women down at the other end of the counter. Jongdae looked on amusedly. His eyes found Minseok's before the pair of lawyers even sat down. "Chanyeol," he called without looking away from Minseok, expression inscrutable, "I'll be right back."

"Why? Where are you going?" Chanyeol's confusion was ignored as Jongdae walked around the counter. He doubled back over to where Minseok and Sunyoung were now sitting—or, at least, were sitting until Jongdae grabbed Minseok by the arm and yanked him up. Minseok offered no resistance, letting Jongdae pull him along down behind the back of the liquor display, where there was a set of restrooms. Jongdae shoved Minseok into one and shut the door behind him.

Then lips were on his.

The kiss was demanding, taking and taking and taking, and Minseok was more than pleased to give. Jongdae's hands threaded through his hair, but the way he tugged was more pleading than punishing. The slant of his mouth was harsh, rough, and Minseok, hands coming up to steady Jongdae with a firm hold on his hips, used his tongue to gentle the kiss into something smooth, slick, and hot, an intensity of a new kind. The slide of Jongdae's tongue against his set Minseok's blood aflame, and he pulled Jongdae more solidly against him. Neither of them were very vocal, but their breaths came out as labored huffs through their noses. Minseok tilted his head and delved in deeper. Jongdae's full-bodied shudder made him smile, effectively ending the kiss with a few teasing licks to his bared teeth. Their foreheads pressed together as they sought to regulate their breathing again.

"I've been thinking about doing that for days," Jongdae said, his smile genuine as he finally opened his eyes.

"I could tell," Minseok said. His mouth hurt with the size of his own smile. "So have I."

Jongdae hummed, then freed his hands of Minseok's hair, one wrapping around the back of his neck and the other using a finger to trace Minseok's mouth. "Your smile is so gummy. It's cute." Minseok playfully kissed the finger, making Jongdae laugh. Then he pulled back, a fake moue replacing his grin. "This is ridiculous. I tried teasing you with those messages yesterday, but I think all I ended up doing was working myself up even more."

"If it makes you feel any better, I couldn't stop thinking about them all day."

"Did you think about them during your trial?"

"Yes. And in the shower at home."

Jongdae was the epitome of the cat that got the cream. He leaned in and pressed his mouth to Minseok's again, their lips clinging slightly when he pulled away.

"What is this?" Minseok asked. "Between us, I mean. What did you want this to be?"

"I like you," Jongdae said earnestly. "I've never gone beyond flirting with customers, not like this. But I'm not looking for anything serious."

"I'm okay with not serious. If we keep seeing each other, though, in any form, I wouldn't feel comfortable with anything but sexual exclusivity."

Jongdae tilted his head. "You mean not fooling around with other people."

"Yes," Minseok said. "But nothing serious. No meeting the family, no declarations of unconditional love, nothing like that."

"Exclusive, but not serious. I like it."

"What about the pace we've been moving at?" Minseok asked. "I'm fine with it, but you don't want to slow things down, do you?"

Jongdae just scoffed, effectively answering that question.

With their boundaries now set, they could only justify the exchange of one more kiss before Jongdae needed to return to the counter. Behind a glass of a beverage Chanyeol must have made for her, Sunyoung blinked at their disheveled appearance, and really, she should have trademarked the expression on her face, the very unique, very Sunyoung look of intrigue and incredulity.

Chanyeol, on the other hand, was already in stitches laughing by the time Jongdae returned to his post and Minseok sat back down in the vacated chair beside Sunyoung. "Okay, okay, I've got one, _listen,_ " he said. "If Minseok feels up Jongdae on the job, and we have to kick him out of the bar for public indecency, does that mean he's _disbarred?_ "

Sunyoung choked on her drink. Jongdae shouted angrily and smacked Chanyeol on the shoulder. Minseok groaned but was too happy to wipe the smile off of his face.

+++

"Is this Minseok?"

With a caller ID endemic to the SMPA headquarters, Minseok had been fully expecting it to be Kyungsoo on the other end of the line that morning. He was surprised when it was Lay's soft, honeyed voice that came through, sounding just as dulcet over the phone as it did vis-a-vis.

"Hello, Lay," Minseok said. "I wasn't expecting you to call." He stood up and walked over to the window at the back of his office. He didn't want to be near his desk or his computer, where distractions were aplenty; Lay deserved the entirety of his attention.

"Kyungsoo was going to send you an email to update you, but I asked him if it was okay for me to call you myself. He gave me your contact information," Lay explained.

Huh. Odd. "You wanted to talk to me yourself?"

"Sort of. Um. Actually, I just wanted to talk to someone. I'm not allowed to talk to a lot of people here, and even fewer of those people know who I am or why I'm here. It gets lonely."

"And I'm one of the only people who knows of you," Minseok clarified. That did sound kind of lonely. Minseok was comfortable keeping his friends limited to his coworkers, and the only person he considered a close friend was Sunyoung. But he interacted with a varied amount of people between the office, the gym, Elyxion, grocery shopping, restaurants—there were different sorts of people in different settings. Lay didn't have access to any of that, and Minseok sympathized.

"Yes."

"What do you even do in your free time? I'm sure you don't hang around the precinct all day." Outside, dark, gray clouds hung heavily in the sky, varicose with water. It would rain soon. Maybe a good storm would help flush out the oppressive humidy that's clung to the air for the past week.

"No." Breathy laughter huffed through the speaker. "There's a . . . a safehouse? For me." He pronounced the word "safehouse" wrong, but Minseok knew what he was trying to say, and didn't correct him. It was an easy mistake: the word was uncommon in conversational Korean. "I mostly stay there. It has televsion and some books, but not much else in the way of passing time."

"Are you there now?"

"Yes."

"Your caller ID is from the SMPA."

"They took my phone," Lay said. "They gave me one of their own. They told me it's for security reasons, but I don't really get it."

It almost sounded like Lay was under house arrest, not the protective custody program, but Minseok diplomatically decided to keep that observation to himself. "You can call me whenever you need to, Lay," Minseok said instead.

"Thank you." It sounded heartfelt. "Um, I didn't call you to complain, though. Kyungsoo wanted you to know that the investigation officially started today. He's leading it himself in person, because of how often the Yongsung-pa pays people working in the police force to stay quiet or even help them."

"That's smart of him," Minseok said, impressed. "But if he plans on being on-site that much, it will increase the amount of time the investigation will take. I can't imagine the Chief Superintendant General comes with a light workload. He'll have to split his time between managing the case and completing his normal duties."

"That's what he said. But he thinks it's inevitable that the Yongsung-pa will try to interfere, and he wants to do everything he can to prevent the investigation from being hampered, even if it means extending the time."

"I know I've only met him once, but if anyone were to be immune to corruption, I'm positive that it would be him."

"I agree." Lay laughed again, the sound petering out into white noise. "The reach of the Yongsung-pa is very far."

Something in his voice was off, tense, and Minseok had to take a few moments to congitate the tone and the implications. He made an educated guess. "Are you worried for you own safety?"

There was a long stretch of silence. Then, quietly: "Yes. If there is a way of finding me, the Yongsung-pa will discover it."

"If anyone can keep you safe, it's Kyungsoo," Minseok said, forcing every ounce of conviction he had into his voice.

"I have faith in Kyungsoo's skill," Lay said, "but I have more faith in the capabilities of my former colleages. And if it's not me, it will be Tao they go after, even if he's loyal to them." He sounded so sad but so resigned, and Minseok was compelled to do something to help, but he couldn't think of what aid he could possibly offer beyond what he was already doing. If he had all the information he needed to make a case, he would deliver immediate justice to the jopok hounding Lay. But he wasn't a one-man army. He had to wait.

"I'm going to put them behind bars, Lay," Minseok said, "where they will never be able to touch you or Zitao ever again, do you hear me?"

"I." There was a brief pause here, and Minseok imagined Lay swallowing hard. "I believe you. Please help us, Minseok. I'll be in your debt forever if you do. I just want us to be safe."

"You have my word." The Yongsung-pa had their abilities and their resources, but Minseok had his own. It would be a challenge, but he had every confidence that he would defeat them.

"Can I please give you my address?" Lay whispered. "Only Kyungsoo knows where this place is. I'm scared that if something were to happen to me, no one would know until he checked in on me. Most people can't be trusted to know where I am, but I would be safer if at least one other person knew."

An image came to Minseok's mind of Kyungsoo arriving at the safehouse only to find Lay's corpse, already cold. A chill went down his spine, prickling his skin, but he cast out all horror from his voice as he replied, "Of course. Let me get a pen."

Minseok jotted down the address, and Lay's departing "Thank you" was heart-breakingly earnest enough that it echoed in Minseok's head long after they hung up.

The rain finally came down around three, the kind of warm, muggy stuff that always made Minseok feel more stifled than cooled down. The humidity crept in with its long, wet tendrils each time anyone opened a door. They had air conditioning in their building, but it worked better in Minseok's office than in Sunyoung's, so the defense attorney kept finding excuses to visit Minseok every so often throughout the day.

It was during one of such visits that Minseok's phone rang again. Sunyoung immediately backed out of the room with a cheerful, "I'll let you take that."

It wasn't a business call, but Minseok didn't bother correcting her. Once the door was shut, he answered. "Hi, Jongdae."

"Hi, hyung," said Jongdae warmly. "What are you up to?"

It was strange, how he had interacted with Jongdae so much over the past few days but he still wanted more. With a small amount of regret, he answered, "I'm still at work."

"Oh, right, government worker. You get off at five then?"

Minseok gave a hum of agreement. There was a twist in Jongdae's speech, as though he were lifting something heavy.

"What a shame. I myself wanted to _get off_ now. Thought you'd want to join, but I guess you're busy."

Ah. Not lifting anything heavy then. The breaths chasing after Jongdae's words, those were born of exertion of a different kind. Heat, sudden and all-encompassing, sparked through Minseok's chest, grating his voice into something rough and low when he spoke. "Are you touching yourself right now?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

Jongdae let out a moan, maybe intentional but very real. "Yeah."

"Touching your cock?"

" _Yeah._ " This was delivered with a breathy laugh. "Fuck, are you actually doing this with me? You're at work."

"Only if you want me to." Minseok glanced at the door. It had no lock, and Minseok wasn't daring enough to whip out his dick himself in the middle of his workplace during work hours. He could bring himself to the bathroom, but that just seemed unclassy, not to mention unsanitary. There was arousal bubbling in his groin, but it wasn't imperative that he saw to it. He knew he wouldn't get hard without intentionally trying to make himself so. He was beyond juvenile sensitivity. No, he could indulge Jongdae in this without needing to tend to himself.

"You're serious," Jongdae said incredulously. It was filler; bold, indecent Jongdae, Minseok realized, was too embarrassed to say yes. He didn't actually expect Minseok to play along. He hadn't learned that Minseok saw things like this as a challenge.

So Minseok took control for him.

"What are you wearing?" he asked, keeping his voice low. The walls here weren't thin, but he didn't want to risk anyone hearing him. Besides, speaking softly felt more intimate.

"Um. Just, just a t-shirt and sweatpants. My sweatpants are pulled down a little."

Minseok knew what that image looked like. The pictures were branded into his mind: Jongdae's hipbones cresting over the band of his pants, creating a perfectly sized divot to lick into. "Put me on speaker. Then take your free hand and push your shirt up. I want to see your nipples."

"Okay." Minseok could hear movement now, so Jongdae must have turned on the speaker.

"I want you to play with your nipples for me. Can you do that? Don't stop stroking your cock."

A cut-off noise, followed by what was probably meant to be a chuckle but came out as a ragged whine. "My nipples aren't usually this sensitive, what the hell."

"Scrape your fingernails over them a little bit. Does it feel good?"

"Mmngh, yeah."

"Stroke yourself faster."

" _Fuck._ "

Minseok closed his eyes, tipped his head back, and immersed himself in the small gasps and the vision of Jongdae sprawled out on his bed, eyes clenched shut, shirt rucked up and pants yanked down, the fingers of one hand rubbing one of his nipples while the other pumped rapidly over his erection. Maybe sweat beaded on his forehead, or his face turned red. "Have you thought about me while getting yourself off before?" He already knew the answer to that one, having talked about it on Monday, but asked for the sake of continuing his dirty talk.

"Fuck, hyung, yes," Jongdae choked out, and, oh, Minseok decided right then that he liked messy, desperate Jongdae even more than the brazen, flirty one.

"Tell me what you've thought about."

He laughed. "What haven't I thought about? Your mouth on my cock. Eating me out." And _that_ was an image Minseok was going to explore later, but not now. "Want you in me, fuck. Fingered myself thinking about it. _Hyung._ " The honorific had never sounded so filthy before now, warped sinfully around Jongdae's pleading voice.

"You got off on your fingers," Minseok said, "and wished it was my cock." Jongdae didn't answer that one with words, instead letting out his loudest moan yet, and it was _delicious._ Minseok felt his cock twitch in interest. With no reply forthcoming, Minseok continued: "I want to hear you doing just that. I want to hear you finger yourself and imagine my cock filling you up until you come."

"Not gonna last that long," Jongdae bit out.

"Slow down."

"No."

"Jongdae," Minseok warned.

"Minseok," Jongdae replied, and it was probably supposed to be ridiculing but more closely resembled a plea.

"Slow. Down."

"Can't make me from all the way over there, can you?" Jongdae mocked.

"No," said Minseok, "but if you can't show restraint now, I'll _teach_ it to you later."

"Oh, shit. You promise?" Oh. _Oh._ Jongdae wanted that. Jongdae was goading him. He sounded feverish, needy, and Minseok wanted nothing more than to deliver.

"You're such a brat," Minseok growled instead. "Fine. Come for me, Jongdae."

"Hyung—"

" _Come._ "

Jongdae wailed. If it had been possible, Minseok would have captured that sound, bottled it up, listened to it at night when he was alone and wanting, put it in his fucking wallet. He imagined Jongdae's cock spewing out white, leaking all over himself, spreading over his hands, his stomach. Minseok imagined rubbing it into his skin, feeding it to him, adding his own mess there, too.

As Jongdae panted, Minseok cracked his neck and stood up, walking around the back of the room to try to shake out the vestiges of arousal that still lingered. It wasn't the first time he'd had phone sex, nor was it even the first time he'd had phone sex in public, but it was his first time having phone sex in his workplace. And he'd gotten away with it. It was a bit of a rush, as was Jongdae's shuddering breaths.

When he was finally able to speak, Jongdae said, "Wow."

"Never," Minseok said, "have I _ever_ had anyone disobey me during phone sex."

Jongdae barked out a laugh, and just like that the lustful atmosphere melted away, leaving behind something jovial and affectionate. "Look, I was gonna blow my load with or without your permission right then."

"The whole point of phone sex is to listen to what the partner is saying," Minseok argued.

"Yeah, but I was going to get off anyways. You were just along for the ride."

"You little shit," Minseok said, sounding more impressed than anything else.

"That's me," Jongdae said. "Hey, seriously though, what are you doing tonight?"

"Tonight?" Minseok glanced down at his work; there was nothing that demanded overtime, and he certainly didn't have any plans. "I'm just heading home."

"You should head over to my home instead," Jongdae said. "And bring food. Because my kitchen is empty and so is my stomach."

"Should I?"

Jongdae gave a little hum. "That wasn't a no."

He wasn't wrong. "Text me your address," Minseok said.

Jongdae lived farther away from Elyxion than even Minseok did. After leaving the office for the evening, Minseok did pick up a bucket of fried chicken. Normally he'd stay away from such foods, but the options for healthy takeout were limited, and it wouldn't hurt to let loose every so often, especially with Jongdae.

The rain still steadily thrummed down by the time Minseok got to Jongdae's apartment. The evening had mitigated the worst of the temperature, making the humidity more bearable. Bereft of an umbrella, Minseok arrived on Jongdae's doorstep wet and uncomfortable.

Jongdae answered the door dressed in black jeans and a gray sweatshirt a few sizes too big. "Hi." His eyes roved Minseok's body appeciatively. "Not that I don't love an impromptu wet t-shirt contest, but why don't you come in and change?"

"I would really appreciate that."

Jongdae took the bucket of chicken and set it down in the kitchen, out of sight, as Minseok removed his shoes. He led Minseok through the apartment and into his bedroom, digging up flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. "Change, and then come back out." Then he was gone, the door shut behind him.

Honestly, Minseok had half-expected that Jongdae would just want the clothes off entirely, maybe even pulled off in the entryway in that kind of "too desperate to make it to the bedroom" sort of rush that the stories glorified. But he was thankful to be out of his wet outfit, and the pants Jongdae lended him were soft, worn-in, and, most importantly, dry. The shirt was all of those things, too, but . . .

Minseok walked back out into the living room, where Jongdae had taken the bucket of chicken and two plates to place on the coffee table in front of the couch. He gestured down at the shirt. "Did you have ulterior motives when you picked this?"

The shirt was tight. It molded to his body like a second skin, the fabric meant to stretch and mold.

"Maybe," Jongdae said, making no effort to hide his satisfaction. He patted the spot next to him, and Minseok obeyed the cue. The moment he sat down, Jongdae hooked his hand behind Minseok's neck and pulled him into a kiss. The lips pressed to his were soft, and the tongue that came out to meet his was slick. Jongdae moved slowly, like he was taking his time to savor this, unlike the frantic clash of mouths they last shared. Minseok acquiesced, framing the side of Jongdae's face with one of his hands, using his thumb to stroke over one of those sharp cheekbones. The sluggish, wet heat had Minseok leaning in farther, seeking out Jongdae's warmth.

They pulled apart slowly, Jongdae's dazed eyes lingering over Minseok's mouth. Minseok laughed quietly with more breath than voice, and Jongdae kissed him once more, closed mouthed and fast, before withdrawing completely. He grabbed a remote from the table, started whatever had been paused on the television screen. Clutching his plate of chicken close to his body, he leaned back and swung his legs over Minseok's thighs.

And . . . it was nice. Based on the pattern of their preceding encounters, Minseok had assumed something sexual would happen, was anticipating it, even. But this, with the weight of Jongdae's legs blanketing his lap, his bright laughter and frequent outbursts, the coy glint in his gaze, this made Minseok smile and rub circles into Jongdae's knee for the rest of the evening, overcome with contentedness.

+++

Delayed consent warrants were difficult to obtain, extremely sought after, and gave the police force an advantage that was almost unfair. The police could investigate devices, locations, and individuals without prior notice, allowing for a level of secrecy. It was almost guaranteed that the Yongsung-pa would scramble to eliminate anything that could be used as evidence against them if given even half a warning.

Usually, Minseok didn't insist on having police working with him to apply for delayed consent warrants. It felt too much like cheating, something akin to seeing your opponent's cards. Where was the challenge if your opponent was completely sucker-punched? But with an opponent like the Yongsung-pa, they would need any edge that they could get. Besides, the information he needed for this case wasn't coming in fast enough the way things were now. Minseok was a patient man, but even his patience had limits.

There was only so much digging the police could do within the constraints their current knowledge had created. They could search Soojung's known addresses, but not the home of her sister, who Lay reported occassionally provided alibis in Soojung's defense. They could investigate hotel rooms checked out under Luhan's name or aliases, but couldn't search the suspects involved in his weapon or drug deals. To an extent they would even be able to poke around bank accounts verified to be associated with Kyuhyun. But the secrecy of all of these actions would rely on the skills of the force conducting them; one wrong move could bring the whole operation down.

But Kyungsoo knew this and was therefore holding himself responsible for it all. Minseok liked that he had a drive similar to Minseok's; this wasn't just a job, but a matter of justice, pride, or whatever it was that Kyungsoo fought for. Intrinsic motivation was infinitely more productive than any other reasons to do one's job.

Results from the investigation began trickling in. Minseok now had names, places, numbers. Minseok visited the precinct once that week for Kyungsoo to keep him updated on information that couldn't be released in writing, and he was also able to check in with Lay, who was hanging in there the best that he could. Between working on his other cases, Minseok followed up with people the investigation turned up, people he knew were removed enough from the gang that they wouldn't rat him out but still related enough to possibly contribute useful information for the trial.

"It's almost six, oppa," Sunyoung said on Friday evening. The humidity had receeded for now, meaning she had searched for less excuses to loiter in Minseok's office today.

"I'm on a roll right now," Minseok said, "and if I call it quits I'm not going to be able to touch any of it again until Monday. Then I'll end up spending the whole weekend thinking about it and it won't be relaxing at all."

Sunyoung rolled her eyes. "You're being a drama queen. You and I both know that you're spending your weekend with Jongdae and you won't have time to worry about work."

Strictly speaking, that wasn't true. He and Jongdae had made no such plans, but Sunyoung was aware of how much time they'd suddenly been spending together and how fast their relationship was progressing. There was a good chance that, some way or another, Jongdae and Minseok would end up together this weekend, especially because Jongdae didn't work Sundays either, and their timetables would finally match up.

Minseok huffed at his computer, then folded his hands over his documents.

"If it's going to bother you that much then bring your work home," Sunyoung said, her long fingernails clicking against the door frame. "Just—get out of here, please. I hate leaving before you most days but Fridays are just—" she paused and tilted her head. "If you're staying late because you plan to sneak off to Elyxion without me, you can just tell me. I won't invite myself."

"That's not it," Minseok said adamantly. He didn't want her to think that he was trying to ditch her. "Fine." His online documents were already synched to a file hosting service, so he sorted out his hard-copy files and tucked them away into his bag. Sunyoung patted his shoulder approvingly.

They parted in the parking lot, Sunyoung mentioning that they needed to go out again sometime. "Just the two of us," she said, "at a bar where I don't have to worry about you sneaking away to neck with the bartender." She smiled to show that she was (mostly) kidding. "Maybe we can find a babysitter and Jieun can join us. She asks about you, you know."

At home, Minseok spread his work across the dining room table, sat down, and . . . stared. The enthusiasm he had at the office had washed away during the drive back. Just before he was about to force his nose to the grindstone anyways, his phone vibrated with an incoming message.

_> (6:23 PM) what are you doing tonight_

Jongdae was working right now, wasn't he? Even if Minseok were free, if they were to do anything tonight, it would be late. Still . . .

_(6:23 PM) Nothing. Why? <_

_> (6:25 PM) can i come over after my shift?  
>(6:25 PM) unless your old man body can't stay up until midnight_

Minseok smiled. Jongdae liked needling for reactions, and Minseok liked not giving them to him. He ignored the age jab.

_(6:26 PM) Yes. Midnight? You get to leave early today? <_

_> (6:29 PM) yeah we had some ruch fucks rent out the whole place for the night so when they leave we get to close_

_(6:29 PM) Looking forward to seeing you. <  
(6:29 PM) [Attached address]<_

_> (6:31 PM) don't make it sound like we're meeting up for a business discussion when you and i both know i'm going to give you the best succ of your life when i get there_

_(6:32 PM) Presumptive. <_

_> (6:33 PM) but not wrong :)_

Minseok occupied himself by taking a shower and, after deliberating, making dinner. He wasn't sure how hungry Jongdae would be, or if he would eat somewhere on the way over here, but decided it wouldn't hurt to have leftovers if he had. He dressed himself in a white t-shirt and track pants before wandering to the kitchen.

Jongdae's knock came a little after midnight. He still wore his bartending outfit, meaning he had come straight here without stopping by his home to change.

"You didn't bring a spare change of clothes?" Minseok asked.

Jongdae huffed as he slipped off his shoes. "Asking myself over was sort of an impulsive decision, and I figured you wouldn't mind seeing me in your clothes. Not that we'll be wearing clothes very much."

"You're making a lot of assumptions tonight."

"It's endearing," Jongdae insisted before pulling Minseok into a wet kiss. His tongue was slick against Minseok's, his grip firm on Minseok's hipbone.

Minseok languished in the attention for a moment before tilting his head down, the angle pulling his mouth out of reach. "Are you hungry?"

Jongdae gave him a flat stare. "I need to warn you that if you're about to make a comment about me 'eating' some part of you, there will be nothing sexual happening tonight."

Minseok laughed and kissed Jongdae's nose, watching it scrunch up in response. "No, I mean literally hungry. I made food. I wasn't sure if you would eat on the way here or not." Jongdae's eyes lit up, which answered that question on its own. "Here, I'll show you were my clothes are and you can change while I dish up."

Minseok brought Jongdae back to his bedroom, offering up his closet and anything in it and ignoring Jongdae's comment of, "Your house is as anal-retentively clean as I thought it would be." He plated their food and checked his phone as he waited.

Jongdae came out wearing nothing but one of Minseok's blue dress shirts and a smarmy grin.

"That doesn't seem any more comfortable than what you were wearing before," Minseok drily observed, as if he wasn't blatantly checking out Jongdae's long legs, his soft thighs. He wanted to explore all of that exposed flesh with his mouth, leave marks.

Jongdae shrugged and sat down in front of a plate. "Makes me feel cute," he said, sounding more defensive than Minseok expected. He eyed the food in front of him. "Wow, this smells good."

"Why do you sound so surprised?" Minseok asked, mock-offended.

"You're in love with your job! If we go by stereotypes, you wouldn't have time to learn how to cook."

"I'm also a perfectionist," Minseok pointed out.

"True." Jongdae bit into his meal, and his eyes bulged dramatically. "Wow, hyung, what are you doing being a lawyer? You should work at a five-star restaurant!"

"Oh, shut it, you brat," Minseok laughed. They ate their food between playful jabs and idle chatter, Jongdae sharing anecdotes of Chanyeol and some of his other friends—someone named "Baekhyun" was mentioned a lot—and Minseok offering stories of particularly stupid things his clients or defendants have said that week. During a pause, Minseok felt a socked foot slide up his calf, then back down again. Jongdae's eyes were half-lidded, his smile hosting a wicked curl.

Minseok made a show of tilting his head. "Do you want something?"

"I can wait," Jongdae purred.

"Good," Minseok said, standing up, "because I need to clean up."

Jongdae frowned, because he was Jongdae and didn't actually like waiting. He didn't offer to help, opting instead to sit and watch as Minseok collected the dishes and moved them over to the sink to wash along with the cookingware he had used to make dinner.

Obscured by the sound of water, Minseok didn't hear Jongdae moving away from the table; he did, however, feel Jongdae's body plastering itself to his back. Hands settled on his lower stomach while a closed mouth pressed to his shoulder.

"Can you please stop playing hard to get now?" Jongdae murmured into Minseok's skin. His fingers crept under Minseok's shirt, stroking lightly, slowly. "I want you." The subtle touches turned Minseok on more than any of Jongdae's overt sexual actions ever had. He turned off the water and wiped his hands on the towel draped over the side of the sink. He turned in Jongdae's hold, the bartender's hands coming to rest at his waist instead, and their gazes met. Jongdae's expression was uncharacteristically somber, as though he genuinely thought Minseok might not be amenable to what Jongdae was offering.

As an answer, Minseok cupped Jongdae's face and brought him in for a kiss. Carefully, intentionally, Minseok worked Jongdae's mouth open with lips and tongue, making each action deliberate and precise. Jongdae let out a sigh and fell into it, letting himself be led. Minseok tilted his head and pressed deeper, enticing Jongdae's tongue into action as Jongdae moved even closer, pushing Minseok into the counter, demanding more.

One of Minseok's hands left Jongdae's face, sliding down over his jaw, his neck, smoothing down his chest, wrapping around his back before finally spreading over Jongdae's ass. He pulled Jongdae forward like that, crushing their hips together a few times before Jongdae rolled against him on his own. After a few of these gyrations, Minseok offered his thigh, letting it sink between Jongdae's bare legs and using his hand to coax Jongdae on it.

Jongdae gasped against Minseok's mouth, then took up little ruts against Minseok's thigh. Minseok was learning to love these little breaths and sighs, and wondered what it would take to draw out fuller sounds like moans and whines. Through Jongdae's underwear, Minseok could feel the physical evidence proving that this was all getting to him already. Cute.

Jongdae pulled away enough to demand, "Bedroom." Minseok huffed out a laugh before using the bottom of Jongdae's—Minseok's—shirt to tug him down the hall. Contradicting his own hurry, Jongdae drew Minseok back into a heated kiss every few feet, making Minseok laugh enough that Jongdae's lips met teeth instead of another pair of lips.

In the bedroom, Jongdae flopped down on the bed, starfishing. He passively watched Minseok, who now took his name stripping his shirt off of his chest, peeling his pants off of his legs. Jongdae licked his lips. "Your abs are almost as good as your arms," he said.

Minseok smiled and got on the bed. He grabbed one of Jongdae's calves, using it to tug the other closer, and a look of surprised pleasure fluttered across Jongdae's face. Did he like being moved around like that? It was something to look into later.

Right now, Minseok wanted a taste of those thighs Jongdae had been flaunting.

He kneeled between Jongdae's legs, holding one of them to the side while hooking the other over his shoulder. "Are marks okay?"

" _Yes,_ " Jongdae breathed.

"Good," Minseok said. He kissed the inside of Jongdae's knee, listening for the hitch in Jongdae's breath before moving forward, sliding his lips across the skin until he reached his destination. He licked a few times, then, finding a spot on Jongdae's inner thigh he deemed perfect, latched his mouth on the flesh, using suction and teeth to bruise. Hands landed in Minseok's hair and stroked, encouraging.

Minseok withdrew to hook his fingers under the band of Jongdae's briefs. He met Jongdae's eyes, questioning, and was met with a challenging stare and a raised eyebrow, and the imperious expression shouldn't have been as hot as it was. Minseok knew he was being goaded. He smiled into Jongdae's thigh before biting down once more, harsh and unforgiving, listening for the cry Jongdae smothers in his throat before it can escape. He finally pulled down Jongdae's underwear, skimming it over his legs before disposing of it over the side of the bed. Jongdae's cock was hard and red, slapping up against his stomach as soon as the band passed it. Minseok stroked it once, twice, watching Jongdae bite his lip before he lets go and mouthed at Jongdae's hipbone instead. Jongdae made an indignant noise and Minseok laughed between nipping the skin under his lips.

Minseok took his time unbuttoning Jongdae's shirt, moving the fabric aside by smoothing his hands over Jongdae's torso. When all of the buttons were undone, Jongdae shrugged it off himself, breaking the snail pace Minseok had set, before tugging Minseok up for a kiss, wet and uncoordinated, mouths slotting together messily. "Off," Jongdae grumbled into Minseok's mouth, his fingers plucking impatiently at Minseok's own underwear. Jongdae was able to push the offending garment down over the swell of Minseok's ass, taking the opportunity to squeeze the exposed flesh right after. Minseok laughed and wiggled himself out the rest of the way. "Fuck," Jongdae said, seeing Minseok's cock spring out of its confines. "That thing better be in me soon."

Minseok probably shouldn't have found that wording as cute as he did.

He flattened himself against Jongdae with a sinuous roll of his body, grinding their cocks together and drawing out hushed groans from both of them. Jongdae burrowed his face into the crook of Minseok's neck, his mouth widening to let his tongue taste the sensitive skin there as Minseok rutted them together.

"Lube," Jongdae eventually croaked out. "And condoms? Please tell me you have . . ."

"Yeah," Minseok said, pulling Jongdae's hair to angle his face for another kiss. Their mouths made a snapping sound as Minseok rolled away. He sat up to rumage through the end table. By the time he had retrieved the lube and a condom, Jongdae was sitting up. He looked a mess; his hair had freed itself from its perfect coiff, and his chest shook with labored breaths. His eyes were darker than Minseok had ever seen him. His cock stood at attention, desperate for touch.

Minseok wanted to appreciate all of it.

"I want to watch you finger yourself," Minseok said honestly. "Show me how you like it."

Jongdae huffed, but didn't protest. He held out his hand for the bottle, then turned around, popping his ass back and out. Minseok ran his hands over it, down the sides and back up again. When Jongdae's hands reached back, one was slick and glistening. The other pulled back one of his cheeks to expose the hole there. "Pretty," Minseok said.

"Shut up."

"I bet it'll feel good around my cock," Minseok said, intentionally dropping his voice down into his lower register. He watched in amusement as Jongdae's hole fluttered in response.

The first finger plunged in unceremoniously and without any indication of pain or discomfort. Jongdae moved his finger in and out at a steady but fast pace.

"So now that I'm actually here, you don't want to put on a show for me?" Minseok asked, stroking himself a few times before sleeving himself in the condom.

"My fingers, my rules," Jongdae sneered back, adding a second finger. He did go slower, though it was unclear if it was due to the increase in fingers or if he was heeding Minseok. Either way, he was more careful now, keeping his actions fluid. Minseok poured lube into one of his hands before reaching around Jongdae and gripping his cock, pumping it firmly, and Jongdae, caught off his guard, whimpered, his hand faltering.

"Keep going," said Minseok.

Two became three, and it looked like Jongdae couldn't decide whether to thrust back onto his fingers or forward into Minseok's hand, jerking in either direction with short, aborted movements. Jongdae's method of prepping was almost academic to a fault, devoid of any teasing or special attention.

"Okay," Jongdae said, removing his fingers with a squelch, "I'm—"

Two of Minseok's fingers quickly slid in to replace Jongdae's, elliciting a startled yelp. "What the fuck, hyung," Jongdae grunted, even as he tilted his hips back into the ministrations.

Minseok ignored the disgruntled tone in favor of angling his fingers around, looking for—

"H-hah—!"

That, probably. Minseok pressed into the spot again, and Jongdae's hips kicked back. Even with his prostate being stimulated, Jongdae wasn't very loud, but his little hiccups were more than enough to spur Minseok on, massaging as best as he could in the small space. He had been much more generous with his moans and gasps over the phone; maybe he didn't feel as comfortable making them when another person was physically there.

Jongdae's cock pulsed in Minseok's hand, and Minseok took that as a cue to retreat from Jongdae's body. It occurred to him that maybe the reason why Jongdae was so clinical with his prep was that he didn't have a lot of stamina. Cute.

"Are you done fucking around back there?" Jongdae asked scathingly.

Minseok took his cock in hand, rubbed it idly through Jongdae's crack, and watched as goosebumps went down Jongdae's spine when the head got caught on the entrance. "Do you want me to be?" he asked, feigning ignorance.

"What I want is for you to stop being an asshole and _fuck me,_ " Jongdae hissed, and Minseok wanted to fuck that brattiness right out of him, but he would save that for another day. Not for their first time. Minseok nudged Jongdae's knees farther apart with his own, pried Jongdae's ass apart with his hands, and eased himself in.

Jongdae muttered an expletive under his breath and let his head drop. "Alright?" Minseok asked, the heat and pressure rendering him to single-word sentences. Fuck, Jongdae felt so good around him. That feeling was only amplified when Minseok's hips came to rest skin-to-skin against Jongdae's, when Jongdae took everything Minseok offered.

"Yeah," Jongdae grunted, "just. Hold on a second?"

So Minseok waited. He leaned over Jongdae, his hands settling on either side of his head. The movement brought forth a sigh from Jongdae. He planted sweet kisses across the breadth of Jongdae's shoulders, and Jongdae arched up to meet him.

"Okay," Jongdae said.

Minseok cocked his hips back and edged himself back in, savoring inch-by-inch the feeling of Jongdae taking him. "You feel so good, Jongdae," Minseok whispered into Jongdae's ear, punctuating it with a harder thrust. Jongdae didn't reply verbally, but turned his head to the side, mouth seeking, and Minseok met him easily. After a wet and sloppy kiss, his mouth fell away to whimper with Minseok's next thrust, harder, allowing Minseok to focus on fucking Jongdae the way he wanted to be fucked.

Their skin made a dull thud every time Minseok snapped his hips, and Jongdae's body propelled forward with the force of each thrust. Jongdae was more pliant beneath him now than he ever had been before, in words or action. Of course. All it took to get Jongdae to listen was a good dicking down. The thought made Minseok's hips piston faster, and Jongdae now let out a noise with each impact, something almost a whine but not quite. He was so hot around Minseok, and his walls clung like a second skin.

"So good for me, Jongdae. All it took was a hard cock splitting you open to be good for me?"

Jongdae's walls rippled around him in response. "Hyung," Jongdae whined, before choking on any other words, rolling himself back to meet Minseok's thrusts.

Minseok hadn't realized how much he relied on sounds to gauge the pleasure of his partner until now. Jongdae was probably the quietest person he had ever had sex with. It forced him to look for non-verbal cues instead: the sudden clench of Jongdae's walls when Minseok hit in at a particularly good angle; the drop of his jaw when Minseok's teeth dug into the meat of his shoulder; the full-bodied shudder when Minseok slammed forward mercilessly, offering no reprieve from the sudden onslaught of pleasure.

Jongdae's hand flew to his cock. "Already?" Minseok teased. Jongdae growled in response, and Minseok stifled his shaky laugh into Jongdae's shoulder. He molded his hips into Jongdae's and stilled, holding him open. He wrapped an arm around Jongdae's chest and pulled them both up so they were kneeling, Jongdae still speared on Minseok's cock. Like this, Minseok couldn't thrust as hard, and instead took up a rocking motion. However, his hands, no longer required to hold himself up, were now free to use as he pleased. With one, he stroked up Jongdae's side before fingering a nipple. The other wrapped around the hand already on Jongdae's cock, forcing its grip to tighten, its pace to quicken.

"Fuck, Minseok—"

He was almost there, he just needed a bit more. "You're so easy, Jongdae," Minseok purred. "You have almost no stamina at all. The next time we have sex, I want to keep you on the edge for as long as you can stand, then keep you there longer. Someone needs to teach you _patience._ "

Jongdae came with a broken gasp, and maybe Minseok's name was wrangled in it somewhere, or maybe it wasn't, but it was tantalizing either way. Minseok stroked him through it, letting his hand be splattered with white as his grip gentled. Jongdae was taut for a few long moments before he finally slumped, and it was only Minseok's hold on him that kept him from falling over completely. Jongdae muttered something that sounded an awful lot like "Fucking arms." Minseok chuckled before pulling out. Jongdae collapsed on his stomach, looking like he would pass out any second.

Minseok soothed a hand down the plane of Jongdae's back. After a moment, Jongdae turned his head, pointedly raising an eyebrow at Minseok cock, still hard. "Lie down on your back," he said.

"You're tired, Jongdae, you don't have to—"

"How about you shut the hell up?" Jongdae said, sounding more amused than snappish, and Minseok let himself be pushed on his back like Jongdae had wanted. Jongdae leaned over to where he had seen Minseok produce the condom and came back with an unopened foil. It was almost intimidating, how quickly he removed Minseok's condom and rolled on the new one.

Jongdae licked over the tip of Minseok's cock, then under the head, before trailing his tongue down the length to the base. Back up again, he kissed the top wetly before sliding his mouth over and down. The condom did nothing to mitigate the heat of Jongdae's mouth, nor the force of his suction. Jongdae's hand wrapped around the base, following his mouth as it sank and rose, drawing Minseok closer to his own end.

Jongdae flicked his eyes up, and there was a question there: _Is this good?_ Minseok threaded his fingers through Jongdae's hair in response, gentle and attentive.

Minseok's climax was a languid affair, cresting slowly but with a totality that even had his toes curling. His hips jerked forward, chasing the heat, the pressure, and Jongdae took it, didn't shy away even as his throat involuntarily flickered around him. He popped off Minseok's cock with a wet smacking sound, pumped him through the aftershocks.

Minseok's reprieve lasted less then a minute. Jongdae had already flopped back down on the mattress next to him when he found the energy to move again. He sat up, removed the condom, and scavenged around the bed until he found the first condom that Jongdae had haphazardly tossed aside. He took both with him to dispose of in the bathroom and found a rag which he dampened in the sink.

When he came back to the room, he found his underwear discarded on the floor and put them back on. He passed to Jongdae both his own briefs and the rag, and turned to collect the rest of the clothing scattered about the room, folding them neatly at the end of the bed.

"I know your house is spotless," Jongdae said, scooting over to Minseok could rejoin him in the bed, "but you couldn't leave the clothes on the floor for a single night?"

Minseok drew the blankets over them, shifting around until he found a comfortable position on his back. "It would bother me so much I wouldn't be able to sleep," Minseok admitted.

"Anal retentive," Jongdae said, repeating himself from earlier. His expression was more fond than judgmental, though. He squirmed over and latched onto Minseok's side, throwing a leg and an arm over him. "I hope you like cuddling."

"I get hot in my sleep, so don't be offended if I push you away."

"Noted." Then Jongdae fell silent for a long time. Minseok opened his mouth to bid him a good night when Jongdae suddenly continued: "You should get tested and show me the papers so we can do away with the condoms." His toes curled against Minseok's calf. "I mean, don't get me wrong, condoms are great, yay for safe sex. But sucking condom isn't fun. I'll get tested too, if you don't believe I'm clean."

Minseok knew he himself was clean, but didn't fault Jongdae for not trusting someone at their word. At the end of the day, Jongdae and Minseok knew little about each other beyond the chemistry they had between them. It was fair to demand the results from the STD test.

"We should just get tested together," Minseok said. "We could make a date out of it."

"Oh my god," Jongdae grumbled. "That's so . . ."

"Mature?" Minseok offered drily.

"Romantic," Jongdae sarcastically said. He intentionally pitched his voice higher, squealing, " _Oh, hyung, you're clean, take me right here!_ " He paused while Minseok chuckled, and in a normal voice, said pensively, "Actually, that does sound like something I would do."

"We'll fuck right there in the car in the parking lot."

"Are you kidding?" He scrunched up his nose. "Car sex is awful. We'll fuck in the waiting room," he declared.

Minseok laughed again and turned to bury his nose in Jongdae's hair, stroking a hand over his shoulder. Pleased, Jongdae snuggled closer as well. A warm feeling seeped through Minseok's body, followed by a sudden and all-encompassing exhaustion.

Jongdae noticed how he had suddenly relaxed and stilled, eyes shut. "Old man can't stay up anymore?" he teased.

"You have no room to talk," Minseok mumbled. "I heard your bones crack a couple of times while we were at it."

"You are such a liar!"

Hidden by Jongdae's hair, Minseok smiled.

+++

That Sunday, they did end up getting tested together. Sundays were the only days off that Minseok and Jongdae shared, and the clinic was open for a few hours, and neither of them had plans.

They did not have sex in the waiting room or the parking lot.

They did, however, have sex back at Jongdae's place, multiple times, and Jongdae gave him road head on the way there. The tone was set for the rest of the week. It was like Minseok was a teen discovering sex for the first time all over again, with how often they fucked over the next few days. With their conflicting schedules, meeting up was a challenge, but they made it work.

(Even Sunyoung commented on it. "You look exhausted," she said, "but it's kind of nice seeing you in a relationship that doesn't involve your work.")

The next Saturday, Minseok had brought his work home again, but actually did it this time, as opposed to last weekend, where it had remained in the living room untouched. The Yongsung-pa case had picked up even more this week, but he had a fraud case he was working on that had unexpectedly taken up his time, pulling him away from the Yongsung-pa. Today was to be spent playing catch-up.

Or, at least, that was the plan until Lay's number flashed across the screen of his phone.

He hadn't heard from Lay this week, and Kyungsoo hadn't mentioned him at all in his brief, to-the-point emails updating him on the investigation. Worry coiled in his body. "Hello?"

"Uh, hi, Minseok." Lay sounded rather unharmed, and Minseok's muscles untensed slightly.

"Hi, Lay. Is everything okay?"

"What? Oh, yes," Lay said. "Everything's fine. I'm just . . ." He trailed off, letting the end of his sentence float away.

The details of their last conversation came to mind, and Minseok understood. "Lonely?" he offered.

"Yeah," Lay said. "Kyungsoo's been stretched thin this week so he hasn't really had time for me. And even if he did, he's not the best conversationalist. His strengths are elsewhere."

Minseok knew what he meant. Kyungsoo was one of the most capable people out there, but he was also the epitome of "cut the crap." "He said he was working overtime most days this week anyways," Minseok said, "so it's good that you called me."

"Oh, this is your day off, isn't it? You're probably busy. It's okay, you don't actually need to talk to me."

"No, this is fine. I really don't mind talking to you." Minseok considered. He had been productive this week, and he had no plans with Jongdae tonight, at least not for now. And while Minseok had been being honest when he said he didn't mind talking to Lay, it could work to his advantage if he were to establish a close rapport with him; friends were more likely to divulge informal information that he hadn't thought to disclose to Kyungsoo, and that information could potentially help out the case more, give him an edge up on the Yongsung-pa. "Actually," Minseok continued, "let me do you one better. I'm free right now—I could bring over takeout?"

Lay needed no significant amount of convincing to agree. Minseok dug out the address he had scribbled down, plugged it into his GPS, and, after some deliberation, stopped by an authentic Chinese takeout restaurant on the way there. He knew he was stereotyping—just because Lay was Chinese didn't mean that he automatically liked Chinese food—but it was a gamble he was willing to take. Besides, it was hard for anyone to truly dislike Chinese.

The safehouse was at the very edge of the city in one of the quietest neighborhoods Minseok had ever seen, especially considering it was a Saturday night. Maybe the placing was intentional; if anything strange happened, it would be caught, and hopefully reported, quickly. It wasn't too close to the SMPA headquarters, but neither was it too far, and there was a local 

Lay answered the door with a wide grin on his face, dimples and all. "You came!" He ushered Minseok through the threshold, taking the carryout bag so Minseok could remove his shoes.

"Did you think I wouldn't?" Minseok asked.

The apartment was flat-style, and was surprisingly well-decorated with the minimalist-chic combo that had been trending recently. From Minseok's position, he could see a bookshelf, a television, a stereo, a yoga mat, and a laptop left out on a futon in the middle of the room. There were things to keep Lay occupied, sure, but at the end of the day, a cage was still a cage.

"It's not that, it's just. I haven't seen anyone in days. I snuck out on Wednesday to go to a bakery nearby, and the lady at the register was the only person I had talked to besides Kyungsoo since I last talked to you. It's a bit surreal, seeing you here."

Not for the first time, Minseok questioned if this was the best way to keep Lay safe, but he wasn't in the police force and had never seen protective custody in action. Maybe this was how all protective custody participants were handled when they still needed to be accessible for the case. Maybe Lay was an exception.

"I'm working hard on the case," Minseok said. "I want to get this done as soon as I can so you don't have to hide away like this. It can't be too fun."

"It's really not," Lay agreed. He laid out all of the contents of the takeout bag on the table, and there was just enough space to fit all of it side-by-side. The smell was delicious. It had been too long since Minseok had had Chinese.

Apparently, Lay agreed. "Oh," he said after taking a bite, a strange tone in his voice. "This is . . . real Chinese food. Not the knock-off stuff."

"I hoped you would like it," Minseok said. Lay's face was unscrutable, and unfamiliar doubt flickered through Minseok. "I wasn't sure if you would, but I had hoped."

Lay was quick to reassure him. "It's delicious! You're very thoughtful, Minseok. It's just—it reminded me that the last time I had Chinese food was a few days before . . . I left."

He didn't finish the sentence, but Minseok knew Lay probably meant left the Yongsung-pa. Sensing there was more to this story, Minseok was quiet, waiting for Lay to go on. Sometimes it was best to let people express things at their own pace, and Lay especially seemed like the type of person to need extra time to word things, wanting to be diplomatic and unassuming as possible.

"Zitao doesn't cook. I do, sometimes, but only simple things. He wanted to surprise me by cooking Chinese food." He laughed, but after the sound tapered off, his eyebrows remained folded together, sorrowful. "It tasted awful, but it was sweet that he tried. Tao is sweet."

It was a little weird for Minseok to hear a jopok member described as "sweet" or be involved in such a domestic memory. He had had this impression that gang members had no life outside of gangs; the gang _was_ their life. But perhaps that wasn't the case.

"You must miss him a lot," Minseok prompted. He tried imagining himself in Lay's position, but the closest thing he had to a partner was Jongdae. He imagined being cut off from Jongdae, and, oh, that evoked a stronger negative feeling than Minseok cared to admit. Ever the compartmentalist, he folded those feelings away to _maybe_ investigate later.

But probably not.

Besides, the only reason why he wanted to relate to Lay was to determine the best way to coax out more information from him, not to feel empathetic.

"I didn't get to say goodbye," Lay said. His chopsticks were still in his hand, but loosely, and he wasn't eating now. His eyes were unfocused. "I didn't think I would end up testifying against the whole gang. I didn't think anyone in the SMPA would actually have the drive to do justice to a group like the Yongsung-pa."

"You thought they'd want to return to the status quo," Minseok said. "You thought they'd just round up the dissenters and things would go back to normal."

"Yeah. I didn't think people like Kyungsoo still existed." Lay pushed his food around in its container. "I'm kind of an idiot, aren't I? I was desperate. It was impulsive to go to the authorities. But the attacks had been getting worse and worse, and then they came to our home, and Tao got hurt fighting back. Tao and I have always kept our personal life separated from the Yongsung-pa. Not even Luhan had been to our house before, and he's my best friend. There was blood everywhere . . ."

"But Zitao wouldn't leave with you even after something like that happened?"

"I tried to get him to come with me. But the Yongsung-pa gave him a life when no one else did. Especially with how many Chinese we have in our ranks—we stick close. It was like family, not a job, especially for him. He feels like he owes them his life."

Right, a family that broke every law under the sun, but Minseok wisely chose not to say that. He had some pity for Lay, but not much. "There aren't a lot of gangs that would take foreigners," Minseok conceded. "And even fewer that would allow them into the upper elechons."

"The Yongsung-pa is very inclusive," Lay said, and there was definitely an undercurrent of pride there. "Besides, Luhan, Tao, and I worked very hard to get to where we are today." He didn't correct his verb tense. Lay might not have noticed the slip at all.

"But it wasn't worth staying?"

"No," Lay said. "Not when our safety was compromised the way it was. There are too many dissenters, and they were rooted too deeply in our ranks to get the job done ourselves. The others saw it too, they know that we couldn't handle it on our own, but I'm the only one who wouldn't take death over conceding control to the rebels or changing our policies to appease them."

"If Zitao feels like that too, and considers them his family, then do you really think he'll forgive you at the end of this?"

"Yes." Lay's answer was immediate and self-assured.

The answer shocked Minseok, who wasn't expecting the positive response, nevermind the confidence that came with it. "Why?"

"Because he loves me," Lay said, as though it were the simplest reason in the world. "It will hurt him, and he will be angry at me. Tao feels things very deeply and very personally, but he also loves me very deeply and very personally. He knows I feel the same. Above all, I want us happy and safe, and this is the only way I know how to make that happen."

That stuck with Minseok for the rest of the night, even after the conversation turned away from gangs and towards lighter topics. Minseok, to his surprise, found out that he was older than Lay, and it made him wonder just how young these gang members must have been when they were assimilated, or how long it took Lay to work himself to the very top of the hierarchy. Minseok let himself be nagged into watching an episode of a Chinese drama Lay had gotten hooked on during his time in custody. He left with promises to return soon.

"You're a good person, hyung," Lay said, and for the first time, Minseok felt guilt over how manipulative he was being. Sure, he felt some sort of connection with Lay, but he was "playing nice" now to get more information so he didn't have to play nice with the real opponents later. In the end, Lay was a chess piece. He was a key component, yes, but Minseok had no altruism or compassion driving his interactions with him.

There was, however, a very small part of Minseok that hoped that Lay would get his happy ending, one that saw him away from the jopok life and reunited with his lover. Minseok told himself it was just because that sort of ending was a representation of Minseok's success with this case. Of course Minseok wanted Lay's happy ending.

Of course he did.

Instead of driving home, Minseok found himself in the parking lot of the hotel that Elyxion was in. The night was still young; Jongdae wouldn't be getting off any time soon, so Minseok wasn't planning on sticking around until he did. Plus, going off of what Jongdae had said, Saturdays were busy enough that he probably wouldn't have time to talk to Minseok, let alone slip away to make out in the bathroom again. But that was fine. Minseok just wanted to see Jongdae, and he wasn't in the state of mind for determining why it felt so urgent that he did. He was agitated, and knew seeing Jongdae, reminding him that they weren't separated like Lay and Zitao, would calm him down.

Predictably, the lounge was packed, even for a Saturday. There must have been an event going on, for there was a group of over a dozen people dressed to the nines chatting and laughing on the couches together, crowded close, each with a drink in hand. Jongdae and another bartender Minseok had never seen before bustled behind the counter while Chanyeol charmed a trio of women in expensive dresses and jewels.

Minseok, for once, in his black pants and beige sweater, stuck out like a sore thumb. Stiff, he skirted the edge of the room and sat himself down on a stool at the very end of the bar, trying to shrink himself as small as possible.

He hadn't felt this insecure since high school.

Just as he had decided this was a bad idea and that he should leave before letting Jongdae know he was here, Chanyeol magically appeared in front of him. "Hey, Mr. Lawyer, you're back! I've got one for you. You're gonna hate it."

"But here you are, about to tell it to me anyways," Minseok said drily. His body uncoiled the tiniest amount. Chanyeol's boisterous personality was loud enough that some of his mental brooding was drowned out by the noise.

"I sure am. Why does the law society prohibit sex between lawyers and their clients?"

"It doesn't explicitly prohibit it," Minseok said. It was frowned upon, but it wasn't illegal as long as there was no conflict of interest.

"You're ruining my joke," Chanyeol whined, and Minseok couldn't keep his lips from tugging upwards at his dismay.

"You ruin your own jokes without any help." Jongdae was suddenly there as well, hand on his hip. "Go away."

"Let me at least get to the punchline!"

Jongdae and Minseok both sighed, sharing a look. Jongdae was exceptionally beautiful tonight. There was a hint of black eyeliner at the corner of his eyes, and it added a smokey effect to his smoulder.

"To prevent clients from being billed twice for essentially the same service. Get it? Get it?" Chanyeol cackled at his own joke, even going so far as to slap his own leg. Jongdae kicked his shin, effectively chasing him away.

"Hey," Jongdae said to him, his eyes crinkling with the force of his smile. Minseok loved the way his eyebrows were the most dynamic part of his face, the way they slanted upwards but only when he smiled in earnest. "I didn't know you were coming. It's kind of busy tonight," he added apologetically.

"I knew that it would be," Minseok said, wringing his fingers together under the counter. "I was already out and wanted to stop in and say hi."

Jongdae's eyes searched his face. "You look a bit shaken up."

Minseok hadn't realized that Jongdae already knew him well enough to be able to notice things like that. Then again, Minseok knew the difference between Jongdae's real and fake smiles, so was it really that much of a stretch to believe Jongdae wouldn't know Minseok's nuances, too?

What was Minseok supposed to do with that information?

"I met with a friend tonight," Minseok said, looking at Jongdae's forehead instead of his eyes. "We talked about some stuff that I'm probably going to be thinking about for a while."

Jongdae studied Minseok for a moment. He didn't press for information, but asked, "Do you want me to come over after my shift?"

It wouldn't be the first time Minseok had stayed up late to wait for Jongdae, and if Minseok were to be honest with himself, yes, he would love to spend the night with Jongdae, even if no sex was involved, and that. That was something Minseok needed time to ruminate on. He wouldn't be able to do that with Jongdae physically there with him. "I think I'm just going to call it a night," Minseok said.

"Do you at least want a drink?" Jongdae asked.

"Not tonight, but thank you."

"Okay." After hesitating, Jongdae leaned forward over the counter. His eyes drifted down to Minseok's mouth and back, making his intentions clear. He went in slowly, giving Minseok every opportunity to turn away, and Minseok didn't.

The kiss was unlike any they had shared before. Describing it as "soft" would have been an understatement; there were no words that could adequately describe the fragility of the brush of their lips. The background of the bar fell away, and for this small pocket in time, there was only Jongdae and Minseok and the intimacy they shared for a brief moment.

Then it was over. The bartender that Minseok hadn't met before was asking Jongdae for help making a drink, and Jongdae, dazed, said . . . something that Minseok wasn't thinking clearly enough to catch.

"Good night, hyung," Jongdae finally said, and then he was gone.

Minseok took in and released a shuddering breath. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chanyeol looking worriedly over at him; he must have truly looked pathetic. Minseok squared his shoulders, shot Chanyeol a reassuring smile, and left the bar.

That night, his bed felt too cold and empty. He was so disturbed by it that he ended up wandering out to the couch. He stared at the Yongsung-pa files on his coffee table for a long time before sleep finally took him.

+++

Unfettered light, mean and audacious, glared right into Minseok's face as he woke up. It took a few seconds to struggle through his disoriented thoughts before he remembered that he had passed out on the couch the night before, not in his bedroom, where the sun was blocked by his curtains. Logically, it was the light that woke him up. But then he realized his phone was buzzing angrily on the floor next to him, demanding his attention. It stopped just as he rolled over to pick it up.

_Kyungsoo  
1 Missed Call_

Kyungsoo calling this early? And on a Sunday? That couldn't be good. Minseok unlocked his phone to return the call, but then his phone was vibrating again in his palm, Kyungsoo's name displayed once more.

"Hello?" Minseok said, sleep still clinging to his voice, making it lethargic and somewhat gargled. He cleared his throat.

"Minseok," Kyungsoo said. "You answered, good. We've got something big." He sounded like a kid on Children's Day, excited and impatient.

Minseok sat up, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to catch up with the level of energy. The uncomfortable position he had slept in all night had left him with a knot at the base of his neck, and he absently dug his fingers into it, trying to loosen the muscles. "What? What's going on?"

"A murder," Kyungsoo said, maybe even gushed, if a word could be applied to someone like Chief Superintendent General Do Kyungsoo. "It happened early this morning. And Cho Kyuhyun is the culprit."

"What?" The remaining vestiges of sleep fell away from him all at once. "Kyuhyun? Are you sure?"

"Positive. And that's not even the best part. Minseok, we got a gun with his handprints on it."

White noise roared in Minseok's ears. That. That was too good to be true. "No. That's too sloppy, especially for him."

"That's what I thought, but the crime scene is so damn messy, the attack must have caught him off-guard. He must have left the gun behind when he was fleeing. We're having the bullet and the body examined right now, but I'm pretty sure the bullet matches the weapon, so it wasn't planted. We already put a warrant out for his arrest. He won't turn himself in, obviously, but he basically gave us full permission to investigate him and anything related to him at our jurisdiction."

"We just won this whole case," Minseok said, stunned.

Hook, line, and sinker.

Kyungsoo snorted. "I wouldn't go that far, but, yeah, basically. Oh, forensics is calling. I have to take this. I'll keep you updated, alright?" There was no actual goodbye; Minseok's phone beeped twice, signalling that he call had been ended.

Minseok stared at the phone in his hand. He put it back on the coffee table and laid himself down again.

Wow. This was monumental. No, beyond monumental—this was almost fictional with how unrealistic it was. With a concrete connection to a murder, the police could investigate any and all things related to Cho Kyuhyun, and anything found there could be used as evidence in the Yongsung-pa case. It was brilliant. It was almost too easy. Minseok had learned not to trust blindly in the abilities, and loyalties, of the SMPA, but he had faith in Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo would get him the evidence he needed to put these rats behind bars where they belonged.

Minseok called Lay a few hours later to ask if he had heard the news. "Yes," Lay said. Minseok had to turn the volume on his phone up as high as it could go to hear him.

"Was the victim identified? Do you know who they were?" Lay's input here could be helpful in solving the case, or at least add valuable insight. Minseok was sure Kyungsoo had already covered his bases here, but Minseok also wanted to hear it from Lay himself.

"Yes. His name was Zhoumi. He was very close with Kyuhyun. Zhoumi was the only one Kyuhyun trusted to act as a proxy whenever Kyuhyun needed someone to represent him."

That didn't sound like Minseok's definition of "close." "Why would Kyuhyun kill him, then? Kyungsoo said the victim wasn't armed, so it couldn't be out of self-defense."

"I don't know. I didn't know Zhoumi that well. If I were to guess . . . maybe they had an argument about everything that's been going on?" Lay's voice turned thoughtful. "Kyuhyun is impulsive and violent. That combination can end lives. _Has_ ended lives."

"Were you close to Kyuhyun yourself?"

"Somewhat. Our roles required us to interact a lot, but we never really became friends, not like Luhan and I."

"I see. What about Soojung?"

"Soojung is hard to get close to." But his voice had turned fond. "She likes keeping people at arm's length. She always does her own thing, but she was like a little sister to all of us, even if she didn't treat us like older brothers."

Still, Minseok couldn't shake the oddity of hearing jopok refer to each other as family. The intimacy didn't match the front at all. How can people who were pimps, thieves, even murderers form such close bonds with others?

It wasn't until Tuesday that the evidence and files associated with the homicide started making their way to Minseok's inbox, attached to a foreboding update from Kyungsoo.

_Minesok,_

_I have some good news and some bad news._

_The good news: We already have a lot of information from this murder. I've attached a few documents and images that I think you'll find relevant._

_The bad news: Now that we've started looking more thoroughly investigating Kyuhyun, we've discovered that a significant portion of leads that could lead to him have already been shut down. Bank accounts, paper trails, gang operations, etc. that should still be underway? Disappeared, or otherwise sabotaged to the point that we can't use it to get anywhere._

_These aren't things that would have been able to be done within the past two days. I think someone tipped them off that we've been snooping around. We might have a mole in our midst. I hand-picked my team to include only the most trustworthy people, but the Yongsung-pa's reach is far, and their pockets are deep._

_This is going to hamper our investigative efforts, but we still have leads to follow-up on. Not even a jopok boss can hide everything._

_Stay sharp._

_Kyungsoo_

"It's not that surprising," Minseok said when he relayed the information to Sunyoung. She was still on a need-to-know basis, but she she had always been a good soundboard for Minseok's thoughts. "What's truly surprising is that it took this long for a spy to show up."

Jongdae was already awake, texting him about his adventures to the grocery store. Minseok wondered what had woken him up so early, but didn't convey his worry, unsure if it would be welcome.

"But you say that Kyungsoo hand-picked his team?" Sunyoung asked. She chewed her lunch thoughtfully. They were at the cafe she liked again for lunch. There was a breeze today, dispelling the smog that saturated the city air like water in cloth and alleviating some of the heat. "Based on what you've said, I would say he's a good judge of character. Doesn't it seem weird that someone personally chosen by him would be bought off?"

"Anyone can be bought off for the right price," Minseok pointed out.

"You're always so negative," Sunyoung chuckled. "All I'm saying is that maybe it's someone else. Someone who's not actually on the team."

"As far as I know, the only person who isn't on the team and knows a lot about the case is me," Minseok said.

And Lay, whose existence Minseok still hadn't revealed to Sunyoung.

Oh. Oh, that was not a good thought. It was a stretch, but this could ultimately be some sort of ploy by the Yongsung-pa to involve SMPA intervention to somehow eliminate the dissenters from their midst. Lay could potentially still be working for the jopok. Minseok wasn't sure what their plan was, or if that was the situation, but it . . . was possible.

"Hm. Well, you know more about your case than I do. It was just a thought," Sunyoung said good-naturedly.

"Yeah. Thanks. I'll keep it in mind."

That was an understatement. Now that the thought had been conceived, it positively plagued Minseok for the rest of the day. Lay had seemed so genuine with his concern, his unsure demeanor evoking protectiveness even in Minseok. If it was a facade, it was flawless. And there had to be at least some truth there: no one, not even the best actor, could fake the love that shone through whenever Lay talked about Zitao.

Minseok dragged a hand over his face, sighing heavily. He stared at his computer screen until his phone chimed from the table.

_> (3:59 PM) can i come over tomorrow when your shift is over_  
>(3:59 PM) miss your face  
>(3:59 PM) and your cock 

The attitude of the texts was so different from the one in his thoughts that he was startled into a laugh.

_(4:00 PM) If you're free tomorrow, I can pick you up and we can go out to eat. <  
(4:00 PM) I miss you, too.<_

Those words were more sincere than he had wanted them to be, but the message was already sent.

He _did_ miss Jongdae, and he missed Jongdae probably more than he should. The relationship was casual. They had already established that, and Minseok wanted that, too.

_> (4:02 PM) well i'm not about to turn down free food  
>(4:02 PM) as long as you take me home after_

If Jongdae noticed the solemnity of Minseok's words, he didn't acknowledge it, steering the conversation back to teasing and flirting. Minseok was relieved, and maybe the tiniest bit disappointed.

+++

Minseok had money. There was no getting around that fact; he was the top-ranked prosecutor in the Ministry of Justice, and his bank account reaped the benefits of his talent and hard work. He wasn't to the point where he could buy a new outfit instead of never doing laundry, but he lived well, especially as a bachelor, only needing to provide for himself.

He was in this business for the thrill, for victory, for self-fulfillment. He sent some of his money home to his family, kept some in savings, donated to good causes when his conscience needed cleansing. But Minseok, he wasn't a show-off. He didn't feel the need to buy designer clothes, or go out to the most expensive restaurants, or vacation in exotic places. He was happy living simply as long as he was healthy and got to do the work that he loved.

But sometimes, he splurged.

He had told Jongdae to dress well tonight ("Dress like the clientele of Elyxion on Saturday nights," were his exact words), and he hadn't thought to prepare himself for how good Jongdae would look like this. His shirt was silky and red like blood, like passion, shimmering whenever Jongdae moved, drawing attention to the lines of his body. His legs looked endless in his black pants, and would, Minseok knew from experience, still look endless out of them. His hair wasn't coiffed as it was when he was at work, but rather artfully arranged into a look that was less windswept and more "I was just fucked in the back of the car in the parking lot." He knew it, too, shooting Minseok coquettish smiles even as he sweetly twined their fingers together.

He drove Minseok crazy. How was it possible for one man to be so perfect?

"So," Jongdae said when their waiter had left them with the drink menu at their table, "this is fancy. Like, the type of fancy where they don't list the prices on the menu."

It was a French-Korean fusion restaurant, one that Minseok had visited in the past but had no reason to return to. The food was delicious, but Minseok couldn't justify spending the amount of money required here with just eating with friends or family. No, this was a place for impressing dates.

"It's not an everyday experience," Minseok agreed diplomatically.

"So? What's the special occassion?"

Minseok shrugged, cutting his eyes away from Jongdae's curious look. "I just felt in the mood to treat you."

"Is this where you reveal that you want to be my sugar daddy? Because I'm not going to say no." He slid a foot against Minseok's calf, tilting his head down and giving him a sultry expression.

Minseok laughed, gently knocking Jongdae's foot away with his own. "I'm a government lawyer, not a CEO." He hooked their feet together soon after, keeping Jongdae from moving away. The smile he got in return was brilliant, his eyebrows slanted up with his happiness. Gorgeous.

"That's a shame," Jongdae said. "I always wanted to be a sugar baby."

"Maybe when I finish paying off my student loans," Minseok teased.

"You? Have student loans?" Jongdae's eyebrows shot up.

Minseok tilted his head. "Is that surprising? Law school isn't cheap. I had scholarships, but those can't cover everything."

"Huh. I don't know, I guess I had this vision of you being born from old money, and your family could pay your entire tuition up front."

"That'd be convenient, wouldn't it?" Minseok said, smiling good-naturedly. It wasn't the first time that someone had made that assumption. Many lawyers came from privileged backgrounds, such as Sunyoung, who had never lived outside of Apgujeong in her life, save for her study abroad years. The stereotype bothered Minseok at the beginning of his career, but after a while he had just started looking at it as him beating the odds: another victory. "My dad works in environmental policy, and my mom is a shift manager at a local grocery store."

"Humble." The server appeared then with an introduction followed by a recommendation of wines for the evening, and they passed on their orders. After she left, Jongdae continued, "So, you're close with your family?"

"Very," Minseok confirmed. "Both with my parents and my little sister."

With the way Jongdae's face had gradually shuttered throughout the conversation, Minseok had a feeling Jongdae wasn't nearly as close with his family as Minseok was with his own. "You're going back for Chuseok, then?" Jongdae asked.

"Yeah. They don't live too far away, but I'll be spending that weekend and Chuseok there." Minseok almost asked if Jongdae wasn't, but he had a feeling he already knew the answer for that, even if he didn't know the reasons. The way Jongdae shut down suddenly—there was some sort of bad blood there. If he didn't freely offer up the information, then Minseok wasn't going to pry. Their relationship was too casual for that sort of concern.

Jongdae was quiet for a while, his mouth pulled taut while he watched something going on behind Minseok. Minseok reached out for Jongdae's hand, smoothing a thumb across his knuckles and bringing Jongdae's attention back to him. "Is that a problem?" he asked gently.

Minseok could invite Jongdae to come home with him. He could. He felt like he _should,_ if it would make Jongdae drop that forlorn expression he was wearing. But he didn't, because he didn't want to chase Jongdae away with anything that could be perceived as too serious for him to be comfortable with. Minseok himself didn't know what he felt about the level of domesticity that came with bringing someone home for Chuseok.

Jongdae sighed. "It's just that Chuseok starts right after my birthday this year. It's on that Friday. I was just wondering if you were still going to be around for the weekend."

"I can make myself be around," Minseok said without thinking, surprising himself with how resolute he sounded. "I don't have to leave until Sunday."

"No, you should be with your family, you sound like you miss them," Jongdae protested. "I wasn't asking you to stay. I was just wondering what you were up to."

"I want to celebrate your birthday with you," Minseok said earnestly, too earnestly, maybe, but the smile that blossomed on Jongdae's face was worth it.

Dinner was, as expected, delicious. Jongdae took the opportunity to eat as suggestively as he possibly could, obscenely licking his food and silverware, his exaggerated moans of pleasure more obnoxious than arousing. Minseok returned his eyebrow waggles and tongue displays with flat looks and exasperated sighs, and then they would both laugh quietly. Their feet remained tangled under the table, a steady, reassuring presence.

When they returned to Minseok's house, Jongdae convinced Minseok to let him join the lawyer in the shower. The moment they had entered the stall and the water turned on, Jongdae dropped to his knees and took Minseok's dick into his mouth. He worked up and down the shaft, tongue relentless, until Minseok was hard. With the hand that wasn't holding the base, he steadily stroked over Minseok's balls.

Minseok's arms were crossed against the shower wall, his head leaning against them as he breathed hard and watched Jongdae. Jongdae's eyes met his. He reached up and tugged on one of Minseok's forearms, guiding it to his hair. Then he stopped bobbing up and down, staring Minseok down until he understood what was being asked of him.

Fuck.

The first thrust of his hips was less of a thrust and more of a tilt, a glide over Jongdae's tongue, and Jongdae just took it. The look he gave Minseok was condescending, and for once, Minseok let himself be goaded. He threaded the fingers on both of his hands in Jongdae's hair, twisting hard, and shoved his cock forward at the same time he pulled Jongdae's head closer. Jongdae's hands scrambled on Minseok's thighs, but he didn't pull away, letting Minseok hold him there for a long moment, longer still, until he finally pulled back enough to let Jongdae gasp for air. Then he fed Jongdae his cock again, using his grip in his hair to steer him back and forth, giving him brief moments of respite to breathe before dragging him back down.

"You look so pretty on my cock, Jongdae," Minseok panted out. "Look at your pretty mouth."

Jongdae's throat vibrated once, and Minseok thought if his mouth hadn't been full of cock, and if the shower weren't running, that he would have heard a noise—a whimper, maybe a groan, and, fuck, Minseok wanted all of Jongdae's noises, wanted to rip them out of him and display them in his office like fucking trophies.

Jongdae swallowed down Minseok's release, and something about that, about someone, about _Jongdae,_ taking everything Minseok gave him—that was a power trip. He helped Jongdae back up on his feet and used his thumb to swipe leftover cum on Jongdae's face before sliding it all back into his mouth.

Jongdae sucked on Minseok's thumb while grinding his own erection against Minseok's hip, the head rubbing just right over the bone protruding there. Jongdae's head fell forward, mouth open and sloppy against Minseok's neck. "Touch me," he demanded in a reedy voice.

Minseok let him rut against him a few more times before his hands locked onto Jongdae's hips, his iron grip pushing him away and preventing further movement. Jongdae gave him the stink eye.

Minseok kissed him tenderly. "Clean yourself," he said. "Thoroughly." Minseok turned away and grabbed the shampoo to scrub through his hair.

Jongdae scoffed. "Are you fucking kidding me? You're going to let me get you off but you aren't going to return the favor?"

Minseok was already rinsing off and grabbing his body wash. "I'll get you off," Minseok promised, "but not in here."

Jongdae growled. If looks could kill, Minseok had no doubt that he would have been eighty-sixed in seconds. He grabbed the bottle of body wash from Minseok, poured some on his hand, and defiantly starting jerking himself off, the slant of his eyebrow nothing short of contumacious. Minseok knew what Jongdae wanted: for Minseok to knock his hands aside and finish the job himself with aggression and total dominance.

Instead, Minseok stepped out of the shower, glancing at Jongdae with a knowing smile. "You can either get yourself off now with your own hand and not be able to get it up again for the rest of the night," he said cheerfully, "or you can stop, trust that I'll get you off better than you could ever imagine, and _wash yourself thoroughly._ "

Minseok turned and focused on drying himself off. He didn't need to look back at the shower to know that Jongdae had stopped stroking himself.

He didn't bother putting clothes back on; they'd just get in the way for what Minseok had planned tonight. He wandered out to the kitchen, poured himself a glass of water, and returned to his bedroom, placing it on the nightstand for later. He also found an old towel in the linen closet and laid it out on the bed. He picked up the trail of clothes he and Jongdae had left through the hall and put them in his laundry hamper. He'd wash them and return Jongdae's clothes to him after they were cleaned. Minseok knew Jongdae wouldn't mind borrowing Minseok's clothes—would leap at the opportunity, even.

The shower sex had left him sated and sleepy, and he did a few sit-ups on the floor of his bedroom to wake himself up again.

The shower turned off. Minseok smiled and sat on the bed, waiting patiently until Jongdae appeared in the doorframe, naked, an echo of a snarl still adding creases around his nose and in between his eyebrows. His erection had flagged, but he wasn't completely flacid. Water dripped from his hair and landed in the nest of his collarbones, and Minseok's eyes blatantly traced them as they slid down Jongdae's chest, making no effort to hide his appreciation.

"Alright, Sex Guru," Jongdae said, "this better be worth my time and effort."

He was so bratty. On anyone else, it wouldn't have looked this attractive. Minseok stood from the bed and kept their gazes locked as he approached Jongdae in the doorway. Jongdae was still, watched Minseok watch him. Minseok cupped Jongdae's face, kept his eyes open until the very moment before their mouths slotted together. He kept the kiss slow but deep, controlled, and Jongdae resisted at first, before giving in all at once. One of Jongdae's hands wrapped around Minseok's wrist by his face, the other one holding Minseok's free hand.

Jongdae pulled away with a scowl. "This is adorable and all," he said snobbishly, "but if this is the pace we're going at, I'm putting my clothes back on and leaving."

He wouldn't. Minseok knew he wouldn't. But he didn't call out Jongdae's bluff.

Instead, he darted forward and bit down on Jongdae's lower lip. Hard. Startled, Jongdae yipped in pain, but they were close enough that Minseok could feel the twitch of Jongdae's cock against his thigh. Before Jongdae could put up a veneer of indignation, he ordered in his lowest, hardest voice, "Get on the bed, over the towel, on your hands and knees."

Jongdae's mouth shut with an audible clack of his teeth.

Now, there was a fifty-fifty chance that Jongdae wouldn't listen right away. Jongdae liked being contentious. But his curiosity won over, and he displayed himself on the bed as Minseok had ordered, but not without a haughty gaze tossed over his shoulder.

Minseok followed Jongdae to the bed, but not before snatching the bottle of lubricant he had set on the nightstand earlier for easy access. With ease, he pulled Jongdae's knees from each other, giving himself space to sit between his legs. Jongdae planted his elbows down and rested his cheek against the cradle his arms made. "You know, you're strong enough that you could probably fuck me against a wall. Strong enough that you could potentially add 'squats on Jongdae's dick' to your exercise routine." He said this amicably, as though his asshole wasn't already fluttering in anticipation.

"My routine is fine the way it is, thanks," Minseok said as he drizzled lube over his fingers. "But if you ever want to join me in working out, I have some ideas that I think you'd like." And, just because he could, he squirted some lube over Jongdae's asshole, ignoring the hiss it evoked. "I'm curious to see how long you can hold a chair position while I eat you out."

Jongdae's shoulders shook with his laugh, and then cut off abruptly when Minseok traced the edge of his rim with his thumb, the rest of his hand digging into one cheek while Minseok's other hand pulled the other cheek out of the way. His thumb didn't breech, just swirled and teased, even as Jongdae arched his hips farther into Minseok's grip.

Minseok tapped against the hole a few times, then dipped the tip of his thumb in and pulled back out again, returning to his circular pattern. Dipped in once more, retreated.

"Do you think you're cute," Jongdae growled more than asked.

Minseok gave Jongdae his whole thumb, and Jongdae pushed back into it with a pleased sigh. He slid his thumb back and forth a few times and withdrew, dragging the flesh to the side as he went.

Jongdae turned his head. The look he gave Minseok could only be described as murderous.

"Do you remember," Minseok said, sliding his thumb in again, "when we had phone sex a couple of weeks ago?"

"No," Jongdae sneered, "it completely escaped my mind." The last word was interrupted by his breath hitching; Minseok had plunged both his index and middle fingers in, thrusting them easy and shallow.

"That's fine," Minseok said. "I'll summarize what happened for you."

"How altruistic of you," Jongdae spat. Minseok crooked his fingers, seeking out the spot that would drive Jongdae crazy. When he found it, the breath was knocked out of Jongdae the same way it would if he had been sucker punched. He was fully hard again, his cock heavy and hanging beneath him.

Minseok focused on that spot but let up on the pressure, rubbing only lightly against Jongdae's prostate. "You called me to talk you through masturbation. I told you to slow down because you have no endurance at all. You didn't listen. You told me I couldn't stop you through the phone." He added more lube, and his fingers, three in number when they returned, made a squelching noise as they slid in. "I'm not miles away now. I am right here, and I'm going to teach you patience."

Jongdae snickered. "Should've tied me up. I can still touch myself."

"If you want me to hold you down and make you take it, all you have to do is ask."

Of course, Minseok knew Jongdae wouldn't ask. Jongdae didn't ask for things; he either demanded them, or he cajoled and taunted until he was given them. Instead, he went quiet, letting his only response be to arch his hips back, letting Minseok's fingers slip deeper.

Minseok pushed his fingers against Jongdae's walls, then found his prostate through them again, focusing his attention on that spot by digging his fingers into it. Jongdae whimpered, unable to keep the noise at bay, and Minseok could see the shiver that went down Jongdae's spine, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

Minseok leaned in and placed a kiss in the indent above Jongdae's tailbone, then left another on one of the globes of flesh farther down. "Have you ever come just from having your prostate stimulated, Jongdae?"

When Jongdae spoke, his voice was afflicted with a tremble. "You're fucking kidding me."

Driving his fingers more insistently into Jongdae's prostate, Minseok replied, "I'm very much not kidding you."

"Normal people can't—ngh—actually do that," Jongdae protested. He whined again, a breathy little "hah" that filled Minseok with a dark satisfaction.

"They can," Minseok said. All of these noises were new, foreign, and absolutely addictive. Jongdae was slowly losing it, driven out of his restraint by pleasure. Minseok knew how devestating prostate stimulation could be, especially given enough time and attention. "You just have to be patient. It's not like jerking yourself off. You're not going to lose it in a few strokes."

He jabbed into Jongdae's prostate and twisted his fingers ruthlessly. Jongdae wailed. His legs fell open wider, his hips sinking and he buried his face deeper into his arms. Minseok wrapped an arm around his waist and heaved him back up, keeping his ass at an accessible height. It could have been either the brutal pace or the blatant manhandling that resulted in the next full-bodied shudder. Maybe both.

He took Jongdae apart like that, focused and ruthless in his assault. The keys to this sort of pleasure were endurance and rhythm. Minseok had both in spades. His efforts were rewarded with cries, moans, and involuntary movements like shivers and contractions.

Jongdae didn't try to touch himself, not once.

"You're being so good for me," Minseok cooed. "How do you feel?"

Jongdae couldn't form words. He turned his head, eyes frantically searching out Minseok's, and he opened his mouth to say something. Minseok crooked his fingers at that moment, and Jongdae's eyes slammed back shut, his mouth falling open wider on a broken gasp. "Min—Min _seok—_ "

And that was the prettiest noise of all, the one of Minseok's mangled name.

Minseok fingered Jongdae until his wrist hurt, then kept going. Jongdae was reduced to moans and high-pitched chants of " _ah ah ah._ " Minseok finally hefted Jongdae over onto his back, giving himself a new angle to work with, his free hand now pinning one of Jongdae's thighs to the bed, letting the other one slump over his shoulder. Like this, Minseok could see how absolutely wrecked Jongdae was, his ears mottled red, his cock even more so as it smacked against his stomach. Sweat beaded on his hairline, on his neck. Lying on his back, it was easier for him to rock his hips up into Minseok's touch. And his face, his face. It was covered in tears that had leaked from his eyes but that his arm had smudged all over his cheeks and nose.

"Look at you, sweetheart. You're a mess," Minseok said, both fond and awed in equal parts. "Do you want to come, Jongdae?"

"Yes," Jongdae sobbed. "Hyung, touch me, please!"

"I am touching you." His fingers bludgeoned into Jongdae's prostate to make his point.

Jongdae didn't reply. It didn't look like he could, not beyond his hips jerking forward. "Baby," Minseok said sympathetically, and Jongdae whined in response. Minseok's hand slid from his thigh and came up under Jongdae's balls, where he massaged his fingers into the perineum. The stimulation against Jongdae's prostate wasn't as direct from outside as it was from inside, but combined together, oh, it was enough.

The noise Jongdae surrendered was a combination of a sob and a scream, truncated but loud. His legs involuntarily kicked out and his whole body quaked with the force of his orgasm. It was drawn-out and and all-encompassing, a veritable earthquake featuring violent tremors and numerous aftershocks as Minseok watched, enraptured, and the force of it left behind a dazed and exhausted man. Minseok carefully withdrew his fingers and wiped them on the towel, where excess lube and sweat had dripped. Then he gently rubbed down Jongdae's thighs, coaxing out the knots from the tense muscles.

Jongdae goved at the ceiling. His abdomen twitched sporadically, and Minseok smoothed a hand over that too, carefully bypassing touching his erection. The intentional avoidance brought Jongdae's attention back down, and he gazed dumbly for a moment before rasping, "What the fuck." Minseok smiled, waited for Jongdae to collect what thoughts he could. "I came. I came so hard I can't think. Why am I still hard. Where is the _jizz._ "

"Prostate orgasms aren't like ordinary ones," Minseok said. "You can come more than once."

Jongdae looked horrified. "I." He didn't, couldn't, say anything beyond that, his mouth opening and shutting a few times before Minseok took mercy on him.

"You were so good," Minseok praised. He gently brought Jongdae's legs back down against the bed. "Just lie back and relax. You did so good. Let hyung take care of you."

Minseok swallowed Jongdae's cock down in one fell swoop. Jongdae cried out, and his fingers clawed across Minseok's shoulders, unsure of whether to push him away or pull him closer. Minseok didn't draw it out, instead working at a fast pace to get Jongdae off as quickly as possible, swallowing often, pushing his throat to its limit. It didn't take long. Jongdae made a weak noise, a whimper or a sigh or some mix of the two, and Minseok took that as a cue to pull away.

When Jongdae came, he came in great strips across his stomach and chest and even the base of his throat, his hips bucking wildly four, five times, and stilling again after a final quiver. His eyes bulged at the mess he had made, and when he found words again, he said, "I've never . . ."

"Never that far?" Minseok asked with a smile. Jongdae just stared, dumbfounded. Minseok lifted Jongdae, gentle and careful in his actions, off of the towel, depositing him on the other side of the bed. He folded the towel and used its clean side to wipe Jongdae down, removing the residues of spunk and lube before they could dry. He reached for the glass of water he had prepared earlier, encouraged Jongdae to take a few sips before setting it back within arm's reach. Lastly, Minseok tossed the towel into the dirty hamper.

With everything cleaned up as much as it was going to be, Minseok returned to bed, sliding in right behind Jongdae, fitting their bodies together like two puzzles pieces. Jongdae folded himself into Minseok's contours, sighing contentedly. This was the most pliable Minseok had ever seen him.

"I'm dead," Jongdae announced gravely. "You broke me." He turned to look at Minseok over his shoulder. "Kiss me."

Minseok laughed, smiled into Jongdae's mouth before soothing his tongue between his lips. Jongdae's own smile was lazy and sated. Minseok's hand stroked up and down Jongdae's stomach and chest, a tactile comfort, as their tongues languidly tangled.

"So," Jongdae said, and if he had been a cat, he would have been purring. Sated exhaustion slurred his words, softening their edges. "Do I get to do that to you next time?"

"Would you even have the patience for it?"

"Fuck, you're right."

Minseok kissed the back of Jongdae's neck and smiled again.

+++

"You know what the problem with lawyer jokes is?" Chanyeol asked one evening.

"Yeah, the fact that you're telling them," Jongdae said flatly.

"Nope," said Chanyeol cheerfully. "It's that lawyers don't think they're funny, and other people don't think they're jokes."

It was the last Tuesday of the month. The bar was slow today; just Chanyeol and Jongdae attended to the bar. Ostensibly. In actuality, Jongdae had abandoned his bartending duties, opting instead to join Minseok on the other side of the counter. He was brilliant tonight. All of his lecherous smoulders were curtailed by cute smiles and laughs. He pressed himself close to Minseok, hand resting on Minseok's thigh, his index finger idly tracing the inner seam of Minseok's pants in a gesture more comforting than suggestive. Eventually, Minseok turned Jongdae's hand over to entwine their fingers together. They often exchanged quiet, intimate laughter.

"If you ever do anything to get you into legal trouble with the city," Minseok said, "I am going to personally request to be the prosecutor in your case."

Laughing nervously, Chanyeol replied, "You said that with such a straight face that it's almost like you're not kidding."

"I'm not," Minseok said sweetly. Jongdae snickered.

August was slowly drudging towards its end, dragging September behind it, and Seoul reached for it with eager and open arms. The Yongsung-pa case had increased in leads and evidence exponentially fast. The gun had opened up doors to leads previously inaccessible through normal means, and the gun itself, the cold, irrefutable evidence of the homicide, was what would allow the other evidence to remain evident in this case. It was perfect—almost too perfect. But Minseok wasn't going to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.

Chanyeol glanced between them. "Hyung, I was so sure dating you would temper out Jongdae. You come off as such an upstanding character. Dependable. Strong sense of justice. No one would ever expect that really, you're just as devious as he is. This is terrible." He leaned down to put away the bottle of liquor in the coolers tucked under the counter, pulling out some other mystery liquid in its stead and bringing it over to the counter in front of the liquor display, turning his back to them.

_Dating you._ Minseok wasn't entirely sure they were dating, not in the conventional sense of the word, but they hadn't explicitly said that they weren't. Exclusive, but not serious. It had seemed simple at first, this arrangement, but the more time they spent together, the more Minseok realized that this could get messy.

He glanced at Jongdae out of the corner of his eyes only to find that Jongdae was already looking at him, his mouth shaped into a playful "w." "Stop thinking so hard," Jongdae said. "You're overthinking it."

"Am I?" Minseok asked, quirking an eyebrow. In response, Jongdae gently tugged Minseok closer and kissed him slow and soft, with light sucks to the bow between his upper lip, a tongue ghosting over his lower one. Minseok sighed into the kiss and gravitated forward, and he knew without a doubt that he was much more invested in this relationship than he had intended to be.

"I'm supposed to be working," Jongdae whispered against his mouth.

Minseok nipped Jongdae's lower lip, relishing in the tiny hiccup in Jongdae's breath. "Then go work," he murmurred in return. "Don't let me stop you."

"Don't want to," Jongdae said, voice at the same volume.

"You can come over after your shift if you want," Minseok said, pulling back to look at him. "I'll stay up for you."

Jongdae shook his head. "Can't. We have a group reserving the space again tonight, and I have to be here until the end. It's supposed to go late. Early. Whatever."

Minseok kissed his nose and lightly patted his ass. "Then I'll finish my drink and get out of here," he said. "Chanyeol can't pick up your slack forever. I should stop distracting you."

"But I like your distractions," Jongdae protested, even as he finally stepped away. Minseok picked up his somaek and smirked behind the glass, throwing in a wink for good measure. Jongdae pretended to swoon, and Chanyeol smacked him with a dish rag, making him yelp and flee to the other side of the bar.

Chanyeol's grin was wide, brandishing all of his teeth. "You really are good for him," he said. The comment settled low in Minseok's chest, and Minseok tried to flush it out by tipping back the rest of his drink, but it was unyielding, clinging like a bur.

He bid farewell to the two bartenders after tucking a generous tip under his glass, laughing off Jongdae's joking offers of "extra off-the-menu services" for the amount.

Outside, August's end was evident in the cooling night air. Minseok drove home with the windows down, humming along to a ballad by a boy group Jongdae had sung along to in the kitchen the last time he was over at Minseok's.

He took the elevator up to his apartment. The doors opened up to reveal a slender man standing right in front of them, close enough that Minseok wouldn't have been able to step around him without asking him to move. Not that that would have mattered, because when the man looked at him, he said, "Oh, you're just the man I was looking for," and stepped forward into the elevator. He reached over and pressed the close doors button, then the emergency stop button.

Minseok took a step back, the hairs on his body stiffening. The man was . . . in one word, _pretty._ His hair was a shade darker than honey blonde, parted stylishly on the side. His eyes were underlined with the kind of aegyo-sal people used makeup to achieve, defined and natural. His mouth, small and pink, was twisted into a congenial smile, and Minseok suddenly had the feeling that he was very, very trapped.

"I'm afraid you have the wrong person," Minseok calmly said, sidestepping to the elevator control panel.

In one smooth movement, the man had blocked him, using his body to guard the panel. "No, I don't think I do," he said. 

And, actually, those doe eyes did look familiar, and so did the sharp lines of his mouth, the point of his chin, his salient brows.

Minseok's stomach plummeted.

"After all," Luhan went on, "I saw a picture of myself in those notes of yours."

Minseok swallowed. How could there be so much saliva in his mouth when it felt cotton-dry? Over the cacophany of panic swirling in his head, he laid out what he knew. One, Luhan, a sovereign of one of the most brutal jopok South Korea had ever seen, was here. With him. Alone. In a very small space. Two, Luhan knew who he was, and where he lived. Three, apparently Luhan had access to his notes.

How? _How?_ Did the Yongsung-pa break into his office, go through his things? His _apartment?_

He heard Sunyoung's voice in his head: _Maybe it's someone else. Someone who's not actually on the team._ Lay? Did Lay really betray them? Shit, what if this was some big Yongsung-pa ruse, and Minseok, Kyungsoo, and the SMPA were being played for fools?

"Wow," Luhan said. "I'm impressed by how loud you think. Calm down, I'm not here to hurt you, if that's what you're assuming. I need you."

Minseok inhaled steadily through his nose, letting the air inflate his posture. The facade of confidence did nothing to actually embolden him. "You need me," he repeated.

"Not enough to keep you alive," and, oh, fuck, that was a _gun_ Luhan was pulling out of his pocket. He patted the barrel of the gun into the cupped palm of his other hand without breaking eye contact. "But if it makes you feel better, I would definitely prefer you not dead for now."

"Yes, that _definitely_ makes me feel better about this whole situation," Minseok said in a flat tone, and, fuck, he needed to shut his mouth. He wasn't used to being talked down to like this. The sardonicism came as a knee-jerk reaction.

"You've got a mouth on you," Luhan said delightedly. "Wow, that's refreshing! Usually people scramble to get on their knees for me these days. Unfortunately for you, it's my turn to talk, so _shut the fuck up._ "

Luhan's expression did a complete 180°. The twinkle in his eyes shifted into a hard glint, and his mouth pulled into a flat line. In his peripheral vision, Minseok saw Luhan's hand tighten around the barrel of the gun.

"My friend Kyuhyun had a slip-up recently," Luhan said. "I'm sure you know what I'm talking about. The evidence he left behind? I want it. And I want you to get it for me." He smiled again, but he had dropped the sweet facade, and his teeth might as well have been razors with how predatory he looked.

The gun. Of course he wanted the gun. The gun is what had given them access to the most substantial data for their case. Without the gun, all of that data became illegal evidence. They would be back to square one again.

"Of course," said Luhan, "I wouldn't just ask you to do me a big favor like that out of the goodness of your heart. Here's the deal: you get the gun for me, and I won't kill Yixing."

That name was one Minseok hadn't heard before, but there was no doubt about who Luhan was talking about. Yixing had to be Lay's real name; there was no other person that Luhan and Minseok would both know, and "Lay" was nothing but an alias. Did Luhan threatening to kill Lay mean that Lay wasn't a traitor? Or was this a bluff?

Maybe Lay was a traitor and Luhan was still being serious about potentially killing him. Minseok wouldn't put it past him; he had seen the reports on what things Luhan had done. Losing Lay would be a hit on their case; they would keep the gun, but lose the testimony on which their investigation was founded.

"You would kill your own friend?" Minseok asked softly.

Luhan's face contorted so much that no hint of the angelic charade remained. "That little rat betrayed us. What is friendship without trust?" Luhan laughed condescendingly. "You know, Soojung had thought that Yixing just spooked and ran, after what happened to Tao. But I knew better. I know Yixing. He's too in love with Tao to just leave, even if Tao didn't go with him. But I didn't think he actually had the guts to betray us like he did. Some _friend._ " He tilted his head. "Speaking of which. If you do something like hide Yixing again so we can't find him, or if you tell anyone in the SMPA about this, we'll kill Tao. And you and I both know that Tao is the only reason Yixing is testifying to begin with. We'll kill him, and make sure Yixing finds out about it, and do you think he'd still testify after that? After I destroyed the most important thing to him? After I sent him the dismembered parts of his lover's body?"

That. That sounded like something the Yongsung-pa would do. And Luhan was right about that last part; anyone could see how in love Lay was with Zitao. There was no doubt that losing Zitao would _break_ him.

"Can you prove that you even know where Yixing is?" Minseok challenged.

Luhan tilted his head and recited the name of the street that Minseok knew Lay lived on. Fuck. _Fuck._ How did he find out about that if only Kyungsoo, Minseok, and Lay were the only people who knew its location? Were there other people in the SMPA who had discovered its location? Did Lay tell them? Or did someone find him and tail him when Lay had snuck out the other day to go to the damn bakery?

Minseok's throat was thick with panic the first time he tried to speak, so he cleared it and tried again. "Why not just kill me?"

"I could," Luhan said. "I still might, depending on how this goes. But you're much more conspicuous than Tao or Yixing, and if I kill you they'd probably find a replacement for you soon enough. On top of that, they'd have yet another crime to add to their list." He grinned. "You must be happy! You're not the first one on my hit list."

Luhan jovially patted Minseok on the shoulder, and Minseok prided himself on not flinching.

"Today is Tuesday, right?" Luhan said. "The twenty-eighth. I consider myself to have a fair and just character, so I'll give you until Friday the thirty-first, the end of the week. You get the gun during that time. On Friday we'll contact you to discuss how to collect it. Do you understand?"

And what else was there to say? Nothing? _No?_

So Minseok took a breath and said the only thing he could.

"Yes."

Luhan's smile could have charmed anyone from school children to presidents. "I'm glad we could come to an agreement. We'll be in touch." He finally pressed the open doors button and stepped out. "Have a good night, Minseok!"

Just like that, he was gone, leaving Minseok alone in the stagnant elevator.

+++

Sunyoung regarded Minseok with scrutiny. "You didn't bring your work home last night. I know you didn't. I walked out of the building with you. So what could have possibly kept you up enough to give you those bags under your eyes?"

No, Minseok hadn't slept well, and that was a contender for the biggest understatement in history because Minseok hadn't slept at all. He had stayed up all night, replaying over and over the conversation with Luhan. Thinking about Lay. About the Yongsung-pa, and the case. Thinking about how to move forward in the case if he somehow managed to remove the gun from the equation, and thinking about how to move forward if he did not. Thinking about what could happen to Lay, to Zitao.

There was one thing Minseok found respite in: the fact that while Luhan had a glut of information he had no right to have, he didn't know about Minseok's relationship with Jongdae. If Luhan had threatened Jongdae, Minseok knew, as much as he didn't want to admit it, that all bets would have been off the table.

Minseok wondered when Jongdae had become more important than winning a case. It made him sick to think about it.

Instead of conveying all of that, Minseok said, "Eye bags are usually caused by excess sodium consumption, not lack of sleep."

"You're not denying that you slept poorly last night," Sunyoung said.

"No, I'm not," Minseok agreed curtly.

Sunyoung knew when to drop a touchy subject. She left his office, and when she came back half an hour later, it was with a small coffee—the good stuff, not the staff lounge muck. Minseok gave her the most thankful smile he possibly could, and she smiled back, a silent offer of forgiveness for his attitude earlier.

It wasn't indecisiveness that put Minseok in his mood. No, his decision had been made before he even got back to his room.

He couldn't give up the gun. There was no way in hell. Giving up the gun would be giving up their case, and Minseok couldn't do that. They had come so far, and this was going to be his biggest win yet. Besides, how the hell would someone be able to steal a piece of evidence that vital out of the police headquarters?

At the same time, he couldn't risk Lay's life. His primary reason for this was that Lay was also an integral component to the case, but if he were being more honest with himself, he would admit that he had grown fond of Lay, and Minseok didn't like thinking of him hurt.

Keep the gun. Hide Lay. Zitao . . .

Zitao would be left to his fate, and Minseok would have to make sure Lay didn't find out about it until after he had given his official testimony to the court. It was the only way they could save the case.

He called Kyungsoo that morning, insisting on meeting up at the precinct. Kyungsoo would have to know about the whole encounter with Luhan so that they could find a different place to put Lay. They would also have to come up with a plausible reason to tell Lay why they were relocating him. Furthermore, Minseok wanted to confront Kyungsoo with the possiblity of someone in Minseok's "hand-picked" team not only being a traitor, but being privy to more information than they should be—namely, Lay's location, but at this point, who could say what other information they knew?

And then there was the possibility of Lay himself being a traitor, and that this whole thing was a ruse. Minseok didn't even know where to begin if that were the case, and it was past time he asked Kyungsoo about it.

It wasn't until after the lunch hour that Kyungsoo was free for Minseok to meet with him. When he got there, a receptionist told him that Kyungsoo had given him permission to join him in his office when he arrived, no questions asked.

The door was shut, so Minseok knocked. A few moments later, Kyungsoo appeared, his hair a mess—he must have been the type of person to run his hand through it when stressed. He cradled a phone between his ear and shoulder, and gestured for Minseok to sit down in one of the chairs even as he talked. "—them that they don't need me holding their hands while they do their job!"

Minseok sat down in one of the chairs in front of Minseok's desk as Kyungsoo paced. On the desk was a sprawl of multiple pieces of evidence, all in labelled plastic bags: an agar of some sort, a scrap of fabric, a stack of photos, a wrench, a deck of cards, a stuffed animal that had definitely seen better days, and more that Minseok couldn't discern underneath all of the junk. There must have been at least three or four cases involved with the clutter.

And at the far end of the desk was, wrapped up safely in a plastic bag, a handgun. The handgun, Minseok knew. He had seen so many pictures of it that he would have been able to identify it out of a dozen different guns.

He stared at it, and it almost felt like it was staring back. If Kyungsoo left, he could just . . . take it. It wouldn't be that hard, to shove it into the waist of his pants, hidden under his blazer, and . . . go. Kyungsoo probably wouldn't even notice it was gone right away because of the mess on his desk. And when he did, Minseok would be the last person he would suspect of taking it.

Minseok gripped his knees until his fingers turned white. It was nothing but an intrusive thought. He had already made up his mind.

Kyungsoo ended his call with a frustrated sigh. "Hey, I'm sorry for this, but could you wait here for twenty minutes or so? There's something urgent going on in an interview, and apparently these dipshits can't figure out how to do their jobs by themselves. I just need to go sort things out and I'll be right back."

". . . It's fine." He smiled. This was a test. Some higher power was testing him to make sure he was able to resist his impulses.

"I'll be right back," Kyungsoo repeated. He didn't slam the door, not exactly, but the sound travelled, solemn and finite.

Minseok forced his muscles to relax and purposefully didn't look at the gun. He took out his phone, hoping to find someone to keep him occupied. Jongdae probably wasn't up yet, so there was no use texting him.

It had been over a week since he had checked on Lay. He could give him a call, if he wanted.

The thought shouldn't have stuck as much as it did. It was a bad idea. Minseok wasn't susceptible to guilt trips; he had to be invulnerable to guilt to be good at his job.

But how did one vindicate their own conscience when signing the death warrant of their lover?

Maybe that's what Minseok needed to hear, though; maybe talking to Lay would make things more real and help Minseok truly accept what he was going to do. If he wasn't able to even talk to Lay on the phone, how could he expect himself to be able to look him in the eye? To tell him, at the end of it all, that Zitao was dead?

Filled with grim resolution, Minseok pressed the call button.

Lay's voice curtailed the ringing tone, soft as usual, but with a flavor of pleasant surprise. "Minseok?"

"Good afternoon," Minseok said, swallowing down his unease. "Just . . . calling to see what you were up to."

Lay chuckled. "What could I be getting up to? I can't go anywhere."

"Oh. Right."

"Are you okay? You sound a bit . . ."

He didn't need to finish his sentence for Minseok to know what he meant. Confident, rooted Minseok currently had sweat accumulating at the base of his neck, his stomach twisted in knots. _Your lover is going to die because of me._ Minseok's eyes landed on the gun again.

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. He would not be afraid of this, and he needed to prove it to himself now so he could accept the consequences later, without pushing the blame onto others. Whether he liked it or not, whether he thought it was fair or not, Luhan had given him an ultimatum, and Minseok had made his choice. "I ate something that disagreed with my stomach," Minseok said, forcing himself to sound more upbeat than he felt. "Lay, there's something I've been wondering. When all of this is over, when the case is wrapped up and you're put into witness protection, what do you plan on doing?"

Lay hummed. "Tao and I—" and, of course, the first word out of his mouth would be "Tao," just to make his decision weigh that much more on his chest "—can't stay in South Korea. We won't. Kyungsoo told me he didn't feel comfortable sending us to China because that's the first place people would look if not here, but I don't think what will remain of the Yongsung-pa after all of this will be organized enough to resume activity in China. It was mostly Luhan and I that overlooked business ventures that way."

"So you and Zitao will go to China together," Minseok said. "What else?"

"Kyungsoo said that we're eligible—both Tao and me, I mean—we're eligible to go to school. The city of Seoul has money set aside funds for establishing new lives for people in witness protection, and it covers tuition for higher education in some cases." His voice dropped, like if he spoke too loudly, the dream would crack into hundreds of little pieces. "I would be happy doing a lot of things, but if I could do something in the healthcare field, that would make me happiest. And Tao could get the funding to open up a school for wushu, like he always wanted to do."

Healthcare was on the opposite side of the livelihood spectrum from jopok member, and Minseok almost voiced that out loud. Instead, he said honestly, "I think you would be good at taking care of other people."

"Thank you," Lay said. Minseok could hear the smile in his voice. "I wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid, but that future wasn't on the table for me at the time. Maybe now, all of these years later, it finally is."

It was a beautiful future. Idyllic. To go through this shitshow, to turn against one's familial group in the names of morality and love, and get that happy ending. And maybe Lay deserved that.

But—the case. The case, the case, the case. Minseok needed both the gun and Lay. Zitao was ancillary. Maybe not in terms of morals, but to this case, to Minseok's case, he wasn't a necessity.

"When I first met you," Minseok said, "Kyungsoo said that he didn't know whether or not Zitao would gain immunity for this case. Does he still not know?"

"We haven't talked about it," Lay admitted. "Kyungsoo is so busy that I hardly talk to him if he's not questioning me about something."

Minseok's mouth felt like it was full of cotton. The gun was staring at him again. "If Zitao doesn't get immunity—"

_If you don't see him again._

"—if he's incarcerated—"

_If he dies._

"—what will you do?"

"I'll wait," Lay said without any trace of hesitation.

"Wait?"

"I don't want to start our new life without him, so I'll wait here in Seoul for him as long as I can."

Minseok's heart raged against his chest. "What if he's incarcerated for a long time? Years?" He only just barely held back the desperation out of his voice.

"Then that's how long I'll wait," Lay said. "He's a good man. He can get out on parole, and if he has to stay in the country because of his punishment, then we'll stay here."

Eyes shutting and brow creasing, Minseok said, "You make it sound so, so simple."

"It is simple, though," Lay said, amused. "I love him. He loves me."

"You've said that before."

"It's still true now," Lay said cheerfully. "You've been in love before, haven't you, hyung?"

No. Maybe. Kitten lips and glinting eyes flashed through his mind. _No._

Minseok was going to be sick. "Alright, Lay," he said tiredly. "You win."

"What?"

"I'll talk to you later." Minseok hung up without waiting for a response, knowing he was being rude but not having it in him to care. His chest felt so tight, like his ribcage had shrunk, bearing down on his lungs. He slid the phone in his pocket. He massaged his temples. Exhaled heavily.

Looked at the gun.

He almost literally ran into Kyungsoo on the way out; he opened the door and started walking before he realized the other man had been standing right there, hand extended to turn the knob. "Minseok," Kyungsoo said, startled. "Where are you going?"

"Something came up," Minseok said shortly. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to waste your time."

"No, I'm sorry you came all the way out here just to sit in my office. You're sure you have to leave now?"

"Positive," Minseok said. "I'm sorry, I really have to leave. I'll email you, okay?"

"Okay," Kyungsoo said, eyes wide and brows raised. Minseok ground out a smile and hoped it didn't look more like a grimace. Like a fugitive on the run he fled from the precinct, the cold barrel of the gun digging uncomfortably into his hip the whole way.

+++

There wasn't a bone in Minseok's body that wanted to get out of bed the next morning, already knowing what shitshow that waited for him. Kyungsoo had surely noticed the gun's disappearance yesterday, and hadn't tried to contact Minseok. That was a good thing, Minseok thought. That meant Kyungsoo had to be raking through his department looking for it, otherwise he would have already brought it up to Kyungsoo by now. Instead, Kyungsoo's phone rested on his nightstsand, still, unassuming.

The gun's presence was much stronger. It was tucked away underneath Minseok's bed, sitting at the bottom of an overnight bag, but Minseok could almost feel its ubiety as a palpable thing, ominous and suffocating, a proverbial "monster under the bed" in its own right.

Now that he had slept away the excitement and emotions of yesterday, he was left with a subtle horror built upon the realization of the severity of his decision. He had stolen a gun, a piece of evidence. That wasn't just punishable by a slap on the hand; that was a felony. It would cause a major stint in anyone's livelihood if they were caught stealing evidence. But Minseok was an attorney, and on top of that, he worked for the government which he committed the crime against. If he was caught, he would be ruined, his license revoked, and he would undoubtedly have to spend time behind bars on top of a fine.

This wasn't a game anymore.

In the simplest way of looking at the situation, he saved a life. If Luhan was to be trusted (and even thinking that, Minseok felt ridiculous, because who in their right mind would trust a gang member?), then Zitao and Lay would both remain unharmed. But at what cost? Even if Minseok wasn't caught, what if this made winning the case impossible? What if they weren't even able to officially make it to court? How many more lives would be at risk if the Yongsung-pa continued the way it was going now?

Minseok hadn't thought through these consequences earlier because he thought he had already made his decision. No, he had already made his decision. He was going to tell Kyungsoo about his encounter with Luhan. They were going to move Lay. Zitao would be left to his fate. Kyungsoo and Minseok would take all possible precautions to ensure that Lay didn't find out about any of it until after he had provided his testimony. Minseok would have won his case. Luhan, Kyuhyun, and Soojung would have been caught. The Yongsung-pa would go public, and the SMPA could take it from there.

But instead, Minseok now had the gun that tied the traceable crime to the larger, abstract one. He couldn't just give it back now—what would he say? _Hi, Kyungsoo, how are you today? Is the investigation going well? Oh, by the way, here's the gun I took from your office, I decided I didn't need it anymore, but thanks anyways._

He could keep it himself. At least that way he knew he wasn't aiding the Yongsung-pa as much. But then Lay was at risk. Luhan wouldn't have his gun, and Minseok would have no explanation to provide if he asked Kyungsoo to relocate Lay.

He had made his bed, and now he would lie in it. Luhan said that he would contact Minseok on Friday, and Minseok . . . Minseok would have to give up the gun.

Give up the possibility of winning the case.

Numb, Minseok stopped goving at the ceiling and rolled out of bed. His commute to work was silent, the car radio muted. He smiled politely at the secretary and made sure to slip into the safety of his office before Sunyoung spotted him. In his office, he let the hard line of his shoulders slump, let his fingers clench.

The call Minseok had been both anticipating and dreading arrived a little before eleven, after Minseok had delved into his caseload for the day, refusing to even look at anything that pertained to the Yongsung-pa.

"Good morning," Kyungsoo said. His voice was perfectly neutral over the phone, lacking even the characteristic hint of grumpiness he had displayed up until now. "Are you able to meet with me in person some time today?"

Minseok considered lying, but this had to be discussed sooner or later. "I have a trial at one, but I can meet before that. Why? What's going on?"

"I'll let you know in person," Kyungsoo evaded. "We're meeting at Lay's safehouse. I know you know where that is, even though he wasn't supposed to tell you. He should know about this, too. Can you be there in forty-five minutes? It shouldn't take long."

"Of course," Minseok said, digging his fingernails on one hand into the palm of the other.

"Great. See you soon." Kyungsoo hung up.

Minseok sighed and ran a hand over his face.

True to his word, Minseok arrived before noon. He cursed the fact that he sweat so much. He was good at lying, even better at bullshitting, but he sweat easily. As far as he knew, only Sunyoung and his own parents had knowledge to this tell, but a small part of him always feared someone else finding out.

Lay answered the door, smiling as always. "Welcome, hyung."

Kyungsoo was already there, sitting on the couch, elbows on his knees, hands steepled in front of his face, watching Minseok as he slipped off his shoes. Minseok sat down on the other end of the couch, tilting his head at the other man, as though in curiosity, as though he didn't know what Kyungsoo was going to tell him.

Once Minseok and Lay were both sitting, Kyungsoo opened up with his main point, pulling no punches: "The gun has disappeared from my office. No one knows where it went."

Minseok subtly dropped his jaw as he sharply inhaled. Across from him, Lay's brows furrowed. "The gun that Kyuhyun left behind?"

"Yes."

"It just . . . vanished?"

"I think someone stole it because things like that don't just get misplaced," Kyungsoo said tersely. "It was in my office, and then it wasn't. Everything else was accounted for. The gun is the only thing that's missing."

After a pause, Minseok said, "Well, shit."

"Yeah," Kyungsoo deadpanned.

"I don't understand," said Lay. "You already had the gun. You wrote it into reports and took pictures of it, didn't you? Documentation? Isn't that enough?"

Kyungsoo looked like he was going to pop a blood vessel, so Minseok stepped in to explain. "Logically, yes. But the court doesn't accept evidence unless it's physically there, because if it was only necessary to provide documentation without the actual evidence, people would falsify evidence all the time. The amount of corruption is so high in our country that the justice system has to take every measure to prevent false evidence."

Lay's mouth fell open into an 'o' shape. "That . . . sounds bad."

"It gets worse," Kyungsoo interjected. He leaned back, crossing his arms in front of him. "That gun? The whole murder in general? That's what gave us free reign over all of Kyuhyun's information that pertained to the murder trial, and any info we found, whether it be on Kyuhyun or the others, while looking into the homicide could therefore be used as evidence the Yongsung-pa trial. If we don't have the gun that bears Kyuhyun's fingerprints to prove he's the murderer, then we don't have the right to go through Kyuhyun's information. Any information previously attained through that warrant? It's now _illegal evidence._ It doesn't matter what incriminating things we found during our investigation; it's no longer relevant to the murder case, and therefore can't be used in either. As of right now, Kyuhyun is innocent in the eyes of the court."

"But that doesn't make any sense!" Lay cried out. "It's like the court is trying to prevent criminals from being brought to justice!"

"It's red tape bullshit," Kyungsoo growled. "It has always been like this. Setback after setback after setback. No one wants us to get anything done." He raked a hand through his hair and deeply inhaled through his nose. He closed his eyes and exhaled through his mouth, letting his shoulders slump. "And we can't do jack _shit_ about it."

"It's like that for a reason," Minseok said calmly. "South Korea has one of the highest rates of corruption out of all developed countries. The Ministry of Justice just wants to make sure we lock up the right people." He looked Kyungsoo in the eyes, then Lay. "Which we will. This is an impediment, but if anyone can fix this, it's Kyungsoo and I." He made his gaze steady, his voice strong, head high, like his conviction was absolute.

He wished he had faith in his own words.

Lay smiled hesitantly at him. Kyungsoo looked thoughtful as he regarded Minseok, then slowly nodded. "You're right. We can't give up now. It's a real pain in the ass, but what else can we do?"

Minseok excused himself soon after that, promsing both Kyungsoo and Lay that he would stay in touch. Sitting in his car, Minseok sent a text to Jongdae to let him know that Minseok would be stopping by the bar tonight.

The trial he had scheduled that afternoon, the final in a series of three, was challenging but rewarding, and his guilty verdict was hard earned. He tried to focus on his triumph instead of the weight of his crime on his shoulders, and it worked, to an extent. But the victory tasted dry, left him feeling vaguely hollow, like it wasn't a victory at all. 

A new text greeted him when he turned on his phone.

_> (1:57 PM) if you do, you have to promise that you'll actually sit your ass down and have a drink  
>(1:58 PM) don't just run off this time_

The Thursday crowd at Elyxion consisted of a combination of people looking for a respite from business and people starting their weekend early. Minseok had stopped by his house on the way here to change out of his work top, sullied with the dampness of stress, exchanging it for a black satin button-down under a black blazer, opting to forgo a tie. He knew he made a good choice when Jongdae's eyes rake up and down his form.

"That looks good on you." He flashed a grin, salacious as usual. "I bet it'd look better off of you." The familiarity of this, the unashamed flirting and come-ons, somehow quieted the anxious buzz at the back of Minseok's head.

"Hello to you, too," Minseok said, sitting down at the bar. "Do you greet all of your customers by telling them you want to take their clothes off?"

"Only the cute ones. I can't exactly leave the counter to say hi right now . . ."

Jongdae trailed off to look at Victoria, who was mixing a drink a little farther down the counter. Chanyeol was nowhere to be seen today, but there was a third bartender unpacking a box of liquor in front of the display. Victoria glanced up and saw both Minseok and Jongdae looking at her expectantly. She rolled her eyes but smiled. "Go ahead and say hi to your lawyer, Jongdae."

Jongdae's eyes thinned with the force of his smile. He was around the counter in one heartbeat, and in the next, had barrelled into Minseok's arms, demanding a short but thorough kiss. Minseok gathered Jongdae closer, seeking warmth, assurance, something. With his nose in the crook of Jongdae's neck, he could smell Jongdae's skin, and if comfort were epitomized, it would manifest in the form of this, of Jongdae's scent, this simple, clean, human smell.

Lay would have the chance to embrace his lover like this again one day because of Minseok. The thought came to him unbidden, but not unwelcomed. It made him clutch Jongdae a little tighter, a little closer, a little more.

If he were in Lay's shoes, and if Jongdae were in Zitao's, then Minseok knew, without a doubt, that he would sacrifice everything to keep Jongdae safe. He would be devastated to find out that some heartless lawyer exchanged Jongdae's life for the sake of winning a case, no matter how important it was, how many people it would save in the long run.

These feelings weren't ones he wanted to articulate to himself, let alone out loud. It was too much when added to this shitshow involving the Yongsung-pa. He remembered Jongdae telling him _You're overthinking it_ when Chanyeol had said that they were dating. Minseok didn't want to overthink things, at least not where Jongdae was concerned. He liked Jongdae. He liked what he had with Jongdae. Wasn't that enough?

+++

Rather than anxious, Minseok went throughout the next day feeling numb. He had court in the morning, and he knew that he did well, as always, but he felt detached from his own body the whole time, like he was watching himself through a camera lens. He declined Sunyoung's invitation for lunch in favor of mechanically replying to emails. Jongdae texted him, and he replied with one or two word messages.

He didn't interact with any of the files regarding the Yongsung-pa case. There wasn't anything to work with anyways, nothing new, and no new connections to be made or data to be collected now that so much of the evidence was unusable.

August 31st. Today, Luhan would contact him about how to turn in the gun.

When he no longer had the gun and was no longer able to access the evidence connecting the murder case and the Yongsung-pa case, what would he do? Give up? He had never given up on a case in the past; if anything, he would keep going until the city of Seoul ordered the case to be withdrawn, cutting its losses in terms of spending time and resources after progress had been halted for so long.

But if he kept going, would Lay still be safe? Would Zitao? Would Minseok? Luhan never gave any threats about continuing the case without the gun, but if they were to grow close to ensuring victory again, who was to say that Luhan wouldn't make more threats?

Luhan didn't know about Jongdae now, but what if he found out? What if Jongdae was put in danger because of Minseok?

It gave Minseok a headache unlike any he had ever had before. He normally loved challenges, but there wasn't a lot he wouldn't do for decisive evidence to just fall into his lap right about now. Something that was so powerful that Kyuhyun, Luhan, and Soojung could be arrested on the spot without giving them time to retaliate. Something decisive. This case had gone on for too long. Minseok was ready to wash his hands of it.

_> (4:44 PM) can i come over after work_

Nothing abnormal took place at the office, at least not where Minseok was concerned. He had no choice but to return home and wait. Jongdae couldn't be around for that.

_(4:40 PM) Not today. <_  
(4:44 PM) I miss you, though.<  
(4:44 PM) You can come over tomorrow, if you'd like.<

_> (4:46 PM) :(_

Minseok packed up and prepared to leave for the weekend before five o'clock even rolled around. Sunyoung, who stepped in to guarantee that Minseok didn't try to cram more work hours in before the offices were locked for the weekend, raised her eyebrows comically high. "Ready to go _before_ five? Who are you and what have you done with Kim Minseok?"

"It's probably because Uranus is in retrograde right now," Minseok said, exuding as much solemnity as possible. "I heard it makes people apprehensive."

After blinking, Sunyoung's eyes narrowed. "If I didn't already know you don't believe in stuff like that, I would have thought you were serious."

Minseok smiled. "Let's go."

"Do you want to go out for drinks before the weekend officially starts?"

"Maybe some other time," Minseok declined. "I have an appointment."

Sunyoung tilted her head and smirked, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "With Jongdae?"

Minseok wished it was with Jongdae. "Not tonight, no."

It was useless to sit and wait for the signal, or the messenger, or whatever, so when Minseok got home, he went through his normal routine. He made himself a simple dinner, but instinctively made an extra serving for Jongdae to save for later. He showered, called his mother to confirm their plans for Chuseok, let her nag him about meeting a man soon because "Honestly, Minseok. You aren't getting any younger."

Minseok didn't know what to expect tonight. A text from a mysterious number. Someone breaking into his house and holding him at gunpoint. The gun suddenly disappearing, and in its place a handwritten note saying "Thanks!" followed by a mocking smiley face.

What actually happened turned out to be none of those things. What actually happened was that, close to midnight, there was a quiet knock on the door, three unobtrusive raps in succession.

Steeling himself, Minseok cracked open the door.

The first thing he noticed was that the man was tall, towering over Minseok by not just a few centimeters. He wore black sweats and a low-slung black tank top, showing off the well-defined geometry of his muscles. His skin was dark, its undertones almost earthy in tint. His eyes, black like his hair, had bags circling them, gray like soft bruises. There was a black mask on the lower half of his face, concealing everything below his eyes.

His voice, when he spoke, did not match the intensity of his appearance; instead, it was soft, careful, and thick with accent. It reminded Minseok of Lay's way of speech.

"Kim Minseok?"

Slowly, Minseok opened the door wider, but not enough yet to let the man in. He tried to glance around the man's height and girth, but couldn't see anyone else lurking in the hall. "Are you . . . ?"

"Yes."

Minseok stepped back to let the man enter. He moved with all the grace of a panther, smooth and sinuous and elongated. Dangerous. He watched Minseok and didn't say anything.

"Do I just give it to you, then?" Minseok said when no prompts were forthcoming.

"That is why I'm here," he said in a tone that suggested Minseok was stupid for even asking.

Pride smarting, a flare of annoyance flashed through Minseok. "You mean you didn't want a cup of tea first?" he asked flatly, on this side of mocking.

"Look," the man said, a crease appearing between his brows, "I want to be here just about as much as you want me to be here. Can you just give me the gun so I can leave?"

Minseok huffed but nodded, walking back into the bedroom. To his surprise, the man followed instead of loitering in the entryway, trailing him closely and silently, as though tailored to Minseok's own shadow.

Minseok dipped down under the bed and pulled the gun out from his overnight bag. It was still in a clear plastic bag, preventing contamination by other prints, although that wasn't much of a concern anymore.

He passed the bag over. The man took out his phone, shifting his scrutiny between the screen and the gun—looking at a picture, presumably, to make sure the image and the real thing matched up. After a few long moments, the man nodded to himself and slid the phone back into his pocket. He took off the drawstring bag Minseok now saw had been slung on his back, and dropped the gun into it.

A very small part of Minseok expected the man to suddenly reveal his own gun and put a bullet between Minseok's eyes.

The man looked at Minseok like he had something to say, that crease still between his brows. Hesitantly, he pulled the mask down under his chin. It had been apparent before, but it was even more obvious now that he was even younger than Minseok, the severity of his features contradicting the inexperienced, soft pull of his mouth, the anxious set of his jaw.

"Is Yixing okay?"

Minseok blinked. "Yixing?"

The man's frown deepened into a scowl. "Yes, Yixing. You know who he is, don't you? Don't play stupid."

"I know who he is," Minseok said. "What I don't know is why you care. He betrayed you. Your leader Luhan threatened to kill him."

"Luhan wouldn't kill Yixing," the man snapped. "They're too close. Yixing is good. Even if he made a mistake, no one would want to hurt him."

The man, Minseok realized, was wrong. Luhan would kill Lay if he had to; that wasn't a bluff a criminal like him would make. But maybe the man in front of him genuinely believed that Lay wouldn't be in danger of his former jopok. The fierce protectiveness saturating his voice maybe hinted that if anyone tried to hurt Lay, this man would break their hands before they could lift a fist or a knife or a gun.

"Ah," Minseok said, "you must be Zitao."

The man opened his mouth and shut it again, and then opened it once more to say, "How do you know me?"

Sending Zitao of all people had to be intentional on Luhan's part, a challenge.

"L—Yixing talks about you a lot."

"So he is okay?" Zitao pressed, looking eager. "Is he—does he want to come back?" His gaze hardened in a split second, zero to sixty, as folds appeared around his nose in a sneer. "The police aren't hurting him, are they? If they are, I'll—I'll—"

"No one has hurt him since he came," Minseok said, keeping his voice calm and steady in an attempt to assuage the other. He wasn't sure if it was okay to give information like this to someone on the side of the Yongsung-pa, but he remembered the tenderness in Lay when he talked about Zitao, and he could see the reflection of it here in Zitao himself. "He's safe. He's worried about you."

"He wouldn't have to be if he came back," Zitao said.

Minseok shook his head. "Yixing is fighting for what he believes in. What he's doing right now—he ultimately wants you safe more than anything else."

"I _am_ safe," Zitao objected, desperate. "I just need him to come back." His voice cracked. "It's so hard to come home to an empty house."

Minseok wanted to tell him _No, you're not safe. I just saved both Lay's life and your own._ But how could he say that and have Zitao believe him? How could he say that when Zitao looked more worried for Lay than himself?

"Why didn't you leave with him?"

"The Yongsung-pa is my family," Zitao choked out, and were his eyes tearing up? _Tao feels things very deeply,_ Lay had said. That must have been a nice way of saying Zitao was emotional. "I can't leave them. I'd be nothing without them."

They didn't feel the same about him, if Luhan's threats were anything to go by. But Minseok didn't say that. Instead, he said, "The Yongsung-pa is changing. They're not who they used to be."

"What do you know?" Zitao snarled. "You're a rich lawyer who probably had everything handed to him. You never had to worry about where your next meal was coming from, or if your boyfriend was going to come back in a bodybag. You don't know the kinds of bonds a life like that makes. Don't patronize me."

To an extent, Zitao was right. There were no silver spoons in Minseok's background, not in the way Zitao was probably imagining, but neither was there the kind of poverty and strife that Lay had hinted at before, that Zitao was implying now. But regardless of what type of "family" the Yongsung-pa was back then, they definitely weren't it now. Zitao either genuinely couldn't see it, or was in denial. A small part of Minseok pitied him.

After a moment, Zitao took a deep breath. He pulled his mask back up. His eyes were red. "Please tell Yixing that I miss him, if you can."

Minseok nodded even though he wouldn't. He couldn't, not without raising questions about why exactly he met with Yixing's lover. But he nodded anyways, and watched Zitao silently show himself out. The click of the door behind him rang out with finality. Minseok went back to the living room and sat down on the couch, trying to calm the chaotic spiral of his thoughts. He steepled his fingers and stared into space. Then, he brought out his phone.

_(12:21 PM) I changed my mind. Do you still want to come over after you get off tonight? <_

Jongdae came. Of course he did. The second the door clicked shut, Minseok was on him, fingers plaiting through his hair, dredging kisses across the corners of his mouth, the line of his jaw. Jongdae's hold on Minseok's hips was firm and reassuring, even if he was too startled to reciprocate.

"Hyung?"

Jongdae was worried. Minseok didn't want to talk, though, and shut Jongdae up by licking into his mouth. Jongdae made a noise in the back of his throat. His fingers dug into Minseok's skin and he tilted his head to kiss Minseok at a better angle. It was Jongdae that walked them back into Minseok's room, and Jongdae that stripped first Minseok and then himself, and Jongdae that pushed Minseok onto the bed before straddling him. His eyes were dark, but he was obviously still holding himself back, assessing Minseok.

"What do you want, hyung?" Jongdae asked quietly, fingers gentle as they traced lines across Minseok's chest and stomach. His visage was soft but noncommittal, waiting to see what Minseok needed before committing to any approach.

_You,_ Minseok didn't say. He wanted everyone to be safe, Minseok didn't say. He wanted this case to be over, the Yongsung-pa to be behind bars. Wanted to know whether this relationship was as flimsy as it was supposed to be. To know if Jongdae wanted more, too. To know why Lay and Zitao together made him think of Jongdae and himself, and what that meant.

What Minseok did say was, "I want to stop thinking."

"Okay," Jongdae whispered. He leaned down and kissed Minseok, gentle and giving, before biting on his lower lip. His mouth dragged down over his chin, down his throat, leaving attentive bites. He sucked a wet mark above Minseok's collarbone, laved his tongue over it like applying a balm. Minseok cupped the side of Jongdae's face, thumb petting his temple, and Jongdae turned into the touch, kissing the center of Minseok's palm once before sliding his lips over the skin to pop one of Minseok's fingers in his mouth. Eyes flinty, he sucked on Minseok's finger, leaning over without looking away to feel for the lube he knew was in the nightstand. Minseok, eyes half lidded, added another finger to Jongdae's mouth, pushing them both deeper, the movement made slick with saliva. Jongdae's throat fluttered, but he didn't move away.

"Good boy," Minseok muttered, dragging his fingers over Jongdae's tongue. In response, Jongdae suctioned his mouth around them. Minseok gripped the rest of Jongdae's jaw, keeping his fingers lodged in his mouth, while his other hand roamed the expanse of Jongdae's chest. Jongdae's sigh came out breathy against Minseok's fingers. There was the click of the lube cap opening, and one of Jongdae's hands disappeared behind him while the other braced himself on Minseok's shoulder.

Jongdae kept sucking on Minseok's fingers while he fingered himself open, right up until Minseok pulled them out of his mouth himself. Minseok sat up and latched his mouth onto one of Jongdae's nipples, using his wet fingers to play with the other, rolling and teasing at his leisure. Jongdae's breath hitched, and Minseok smiled when Jongdae's chest arched out.

"You said you needed a distraction," Jongdae protested. "You're supposed to be sitting back and enjoying the show."

"Can't help it," Minseok murmurred, making Jongdae laugh.

"I'm ready, I'm ready. Lie down."

Jongdae sunk down on Minseok's cock, slow and hot and so good. Minseok panted into Jongdae's mouth. "You feel so good, Jongdae, just like this."

"Yeah," Jongdae groaned. He undulated his hips, making sure Minseok's cock was embedded as deep as it could get. He leaned back, digging his fingers into the thick flesh of Minseok's thighs, offering his whole body to Minseok's hungry gaze. His hips lifted once, twice, and then he was riding Minseok, his movements smooth but his hole tight—he didn't stretch himself out all the way, and the resulting vice had Minseok's hips kicking up to chase the feeling.

"Wanted to stay tight for hyung, Jongdae? Make me feel good?"

And Jongdae would normally say something like _It's for me, not for you,_ and he normally wouldn't be making so much noise. But Minseok knew that this Jongdae was yielding and wanted to please Minseok, wanted to take his mind off of what had happened earlier. Fuck, he was perfect. "Wanna feel your cock spread me apart," Jongdae agreed, brows puckered and mouth parting.

"I should fuck you open until you're sloppy again," Minseok growled. The next time Jongdae dropped down, he thrusted his hips up, and Jongdae keened, his cock jerking against his stomach.

"Please," Jongdae whimpered. Minseok hands bolted onto Jongdae's hips to hold him still, and without delay pistoned up, driven by that one word; Jongdae didn't ask nicely for things. He demanded them, taunted for them, took them himself by force, but here he was, yielding to Minseok.

"So good for me," Minseok breathed. "So good for your hyung." He sat up and pulled Jongdae into an upright position as well, making Jongdae's hands scramble over Minseok's shoulders. "Shit, Jongdae, you're perfect." He pried open Jongdae's ass cheeks as far as they could spread and pushed up harder, deeper. Like this, Jongdae's cock rubbed across Minseok's abs each time he thrusted, the corrugated muscles adding a texture that had Jongdae writhing.

On the next thrust, Jongdae's mouth found the flesh between Minseok's neck and shoulder and _bit_ —not a playful, idle bite, but the kind that left marks without sucking. Minseok hissed as the pain got all mixed up with the pleasure, and in its intensity, Minseok's body couldn't differentiate between the two. It had him bucking powerfully, wildly, and then he held Jongdae's hips in one spot. "Gonna fill you up," Minseok said.

"Yes, hyung, want it, _please—_ "

He grinded into Jongdae once, twice, and then he was shaking and gasping and coming. Jongdae huffed shuddering breaths against Minseok's neck, his mouth open and wet against the thin skin, letting himself be anchored down as Minseok filled him up.

Minseok slid out and arranged Jongdae on the bed. In one movement, he dropped down and sucked Jongdae's cock into his mouth. Jongdae choked on his own breath, his hips stuttering up before Minseok roughly forced them back down against the bed. While one hand kept Jongdae pinned, the other slithered up between his legs, sliding through the cum leaking out of his hole and shoving it back in with three fingers.

So close to losing it, Jongdae was too out of his mind to keep up the whiny submissive facade, tangling his fingers through Minseok's hair and pulling his mouth down over his cock, spewing out profanities instead of pleas. Minseok plunged his fingers deep and crooked them, sucking hard at the same time, and Jongdae was gone. Minseok swallowed the first spurt but backed off for the subsequent ones, pushing up Jongdae's cock so the mess splattered across his abdomen instead. Jongdae shook and shivered, stomach clenching and releasing as his chest heaved for air.

Attentively, Minseok stroked up and down the sides of Jongdae's torso and thighs for a few moments, gently bringing him back to reality, and then left to go hunt down a wash cloth. He returned to wipe up the mess across Jongdae's stomach. More cum had seeped out of Jongdae's hole, and Minseok idly pushed it back in, fingers chasing it into the opening.

Jongdae's hips twitched. "That's disgusting," he said. He didn't sound averse to it at all.

Minseok hummed in response and opted to leave Jongdae's ass full instead of cleaning it; obviously Jongdae wasn't against the idea, and it gave Minseok a primal satisfaction to leave his mark, his claim, like this. He kissed Jongdae's thigh, then his hip, and up until finally he was close enough that Jongdae could pull him in to bring their mouths together. "Feeling better?"

Minseok kissed down Jongdae's jaw, over his ear, and when he got to his neck, he blew a sudden raspberry against the skin there, making Jongdae whine and squirm away, smacking Minseok on the shoulder. Cackling, Minseok chased after him, offering apologies in the form of kisses. He took in Jongdae's expression, sated and sleepy and soft. He took one of Jongdae's earlobes between his thumb and index finger, rubbing it softly. "You have your ears pierced," Minseok said instead of answering Jongdae's question. "I didn't notice until now. You've never had jewelry in."

It wasn't just the small holes. At point-blank, there were a lot of small details about Jongdae that came into focus, like the pair of freckles at his right temple, or the natural pink tint at the inside corners of his eyes, or the thinning out of his left eyebrow while the other remained thick all the way through.

Jongdae let him evade the question. "Yeah, I had them done when I was younger," he said. "I stopped wearing them about a year ago, but I had them for so long that the hole hasn't closed up. I've thought about finding my earrings again but at this point I'm too lazy to look, and I never remember to buy new ones while I'm out." After a pause, he added, "I'm surprised you noticed."

Minseok almost said, _I notice everything about you._ But he kept his mouth occupied instead with a final series of kisses.

Although he knew it was only a respite from everything else going on, Minseok did feel a bit better. Worrying tonight would do him no good. Nothing would be lost if he turned and let Jongdae curl up behind him, chest to back, knee to knee, feet hooked around ankles.

What was done was done. He would face the consequences when they came.

+++

September finally rolled in all at once, soothing August's heat and humidity in the same placating way one would cradle an upset infant, and prying open the cloudy skies of late-summer. Even Jongdae, a homebody, was enlivened by the good weather, and Minseok found himself an accomplice to adventures to cafes, movie theaters, and even a musical. Minseok even pushed his luck with trying to get Jongdae to join him at the gym, but, surprising no one, Jongdae emphatically rejected the idea.

There became a tacit understanding that the "not serious" clause to their relationship was mutable, at least a little bit. Jongdae had started to stay the night more often than not; he came over so much that there was no point in him _not_ staying over. Their sleeping schedules clashed, but the few hours they did have together were worth it, especially Sundays, when they were both free from work.

Sunyoung was pleased that Minseok went home on time these days, and even a little earlier if he could manage it. If Minseok got home early enough, he got to see Jongdae before he left, kiss him, and maybe, if the stars were appropriately aligned that day, indulge in a quickie. But most of the sex took place after Jongdae got home, and Minseok, ever the light sleeper, roused to welcome him with his own body. If the inconsistent sleep schedule affected him, it was made up for by the comfort and satisfaction that came from being able to spend as much time with Jongdae as possible.

The Yongsung-pa case stagnated. With virtually all leads cut off, what was there to be done? Minseok received one email from Kyungsoo in the span of two weeks, and even then it was lacking anything substantial. He called Lay, and visited him when Jongdae wasn't around—even with the case frozen, he was still in protective custody until further notice. Lay grew more anxious as the days went on. Minseok did, too, but at least Lay was still alive. He had half-anticipated Luhan to sour their deal, to decide to go after Lay even after Minseok handed over the gun. But Luhan, Zitao, and all other members of the Yongsung-pa hadn't contacted Minseok at all since the night Minseok surrendered the gun, and if they had gotten in touch with Lay, he hadn't said anything to Minseok about it.

"If they decide to give up on the case," Lay said one day, curled up in the corner of his couch, "what will happen to me?"

"The city promised you blanket immunity," Minseok replied. "Even if they decide to drop the case, you'll be safe. They'll move you into their witness protection program even if they do decide to drop the investigation."

Lay looped his arms around his calves and propped his chin on his knees, his eyes drooping. He looked more and more hopeless as the days went on, and Minseok wondered if he regretted betraying his jopok. "But can they make me leave if I don't want to?"

He didn't want to leave. Not without Zitao. Minseok knew this. "I've never heard of anyone trying to escape the witness protection program," Minseok admitted. Seeing Lay's crestfallen expression, he hastily continued, "But it's not like that's the sort of news people like us would normally hear about. It _could_ happen."

"It could," Lay agreed quietly in a tone that suggested he doubted it would happen. He said nothing else.

If Minseok knew the answers, if he knew how to fix this whole mess, he would. But he didn't.

+++

Jongdae's birthday fell on the Friday before Chuseok. Knowing how much overtime he worked, his superiors were almost eager to give him a shortened work day, accepting his explanation of his plans for he and Jongdae to meet up with Jongdae's friends at a noraebang. To his surprise and slight exasperation, he received an email regarding the Yongsung-pa case mere minutes before he was about to leave for the day.

_Minseok,_

_Finally able to get a small lead. We've been working on matching suspected Yongsung-pa aliases to their true identities, along with some personal details—photos, addresses, employment statuses, things like that. Even got some information out of one of Soojung's ex-girlfriends. Frankly, for as much of a pain in the ass it was to get, I don't know if you can use this information. But I wanted to keep you up to date. They're in the attached document._

_Things aren't moving fast, but we haven't dropped the ball yet, it seems. Thank you for your hard work._

_Kyungsoo_

Minseok wasn't as excited about this new information as he would have been in the past. Lately, thoughts about this case brought with them feelings of unease. Any of the challenge, the thrill, that he sought in his cases was nowhere to be found in this one. Not anymore. Instead, there was the knowledge that Minseok had committed a felony, that the Yongsung-pa knew more about the case than they should have, that people almost died, and that Lay's safety was still precarious, dependent on Luhan's word alone. As such, he had no desire to bring work home with him this time, especially not for this particular case. He sent a cursory email back to Kyungsoo saying he'll take a look at it after the holiday, wished him a happy Chuseok, and left the office for the weekend.

Jongdae was lying in Minseok's bed when Minseok got home, but not sleeping; instead, he held his phone above his face, squinting at the screen. "G'morning," Jongdae said sleepily.

"It's almost three." Minseok crawled across the bed before flopping on Jongdae's side, making Jongdae's phone slip out of his hand to plop right on his face. Jongdae sputtered, scrambling to pick it back up, and Minseok laughed into Jongdae's shoulder.

"It's my birthday, you're supposed to be nice to me," Jongdae whined.

"Am I?" Minseok said. He unfolded Jongdae's fingers from their hold on his phone, then replaced it with his own hand. He kissed Jongdae, soft and dry. "Happy birthday," Minseok said quietly, punctuating himself with another kiss that Jongdae returned with a teasing swipe of his tongue. "I can be nice to you."

"Can you?" Jongdae replied, feigning doubt. He wrapped his arms around Minseok's head and hauled him forward, opening Minseok's mouth with bold flicks of his tongue, and Minseok yielded easily. Minseok lied down on his side and slid one of his thighs between both of Jongdae's. His hand crept up Jongdae's shirt a few centimeters, slipped back down, and back up a few more, a mixture of playful teasing and unassuming affection.

Jongdae was tired enough that he didn't protest the indirect stimulation, the lack of clothes flying off and limbs tangling wherever they met. They kissed lazily and sloppily, tongues caressing without any semblance of rhythm, both sucking on the other's lip or tongue at random intervals.

Minseok finally backed away enough to push Jongdae's shirt up and over his head, then bowed back down to mouth at his throat. His hands, dry and warm and smooth, resumed stroking up and down Jongdae's chest, intentionally avoiding his nipples, and Jongdae arched up to meet him, sighing happily and closing his eyes. Goosebumps arose on Jongdae's skin as Minseok began massaging his fingers into the dips of Jongdae's hips.

"Feels nice," Jongdae muttered. His sweatpants were tented, but not as much as they could be. Moments like these were rare, when Jongdae languished in attention like this without trying to provoke Minseok into a faster pace, firmer touches.

Minseok huffed a laugh against Jongdae's throat, illiciting a noise of discontent and more goosebumps from the latter. "Hey, don't fall asleep on me."

"I just woke up and you're petting me. What did you expect?"

Minseok didn't answer verbally. Instead, he hooked his fingers on Jongdae's pants and edged them down, slow, even slower, until Jongdae's erection bobbed up. Minseok shifted low enough that he could remove the pants entirely, then plicated Jongdae's thighs out of the way of his goal.

He didn't go for Jongdae's cock right away, instead thumbing the creases where thigh met pelvis in long, firm strokes, listening for the pleased sighs Jongdae let out. Truly, if he had been any more awake, he would have already been demanding Minseok's mouth, would already have had his hands snagging in strands of Minseok's hair to tug him to where he wanted him. As it stood, Minseok was able to spend his time kissing Jongdae's thighs and hips, sucking the occassional mark here and there, until Jongdae's cock was completely filled, needy.

"You're being so patient for me today," Minseok said into Jongdae's skin, following up with a nip.

"I already told you, I just woke up. I won't be this patient later," Jongdae said.

"How do you know there's going to be a later?"

"It's my birthday," Jongdae imperiously reminded him.

Minseok chuckled, then finally brought his lips to where Jongdae wanted them. He kissed up and down the shaft, then licked where it met his sac. Jongdae's hips kicked up, and a noise vibrated through his chest. Minseok smoothed his hand over Jongdae's abs and wrapped the other one around the base of Jongdae's cock. He tongued the head, suctioned his cheeks, and dropped his mouth down the length.

"Fuck, Minseok," Jongdae breathed out. "Feels good. Your mouth . . ." He didn't finish his sentence, but sighed out his pleasure, his hips giving aborted thrusts, and Minseok let him.

Minseok gave it to him nice and easy, sloppy like Jongdae liked it best, letting saliva slick down his shaft and fondling his balls. The new game they had started playing the past week involved Jongdae, wanting Minseok to swallow, or to at least cover his face in cum, not telling Minseok when he was close. He fell for it the first few times, but now he knew to listen for the sudden stop in Jongdae's breathing, his abs quivering with tension. When it happened now, Minseok pulled away and rapidly pumped Jongdae to completion, letting the spunk slop down the sides of his fist. He continued fisting Jongdae's cock, slowing down, until he could rest it against Jongdae's hip.

Intending to go wash off his hand, Minseok sat up, but Jongdae immediately grabbed for his elbow, tugging him back to lie next to him. Minseok acquiesced but made sure to hold his hand up out of the way. Jongdae claimed his mouth with lazy bites and sucks, uncoordinated but determined to show his thanks. "I need to clean up," Minseok said, muffled into the kiss.

"You always do that right away," Jongdae complained. "Just wipe it on the bed, we can wash it later."

"One, that's disgusting," said Minseok, "and two, don't say we as if you ever do laundry while you're here."

"I meant the 'royal' we, as in not actually me," Jongdae said. Then he pulled Minseok's hand closer to the mouth. His tongue ran over his own cum, licking his hand clean, and Minseok watched with lidded eyes. He thought it said a lot about him when he found himself more turned on than not.

Regardless, he repeated, "Disgusting," when Jongdae was done, before bending down to lick the taste back out of Jongdae's mouth, deep and filthy and thorough.

They kissed the whole time Jongdae palmed over the tent in Minseok's slacks, and only broke apart when Minseok hissed or groaned into Jongdae's mouth when that hand finally unzipped his pants and pulled his cock out.

By the time both of them had come, it was almost time to leave, and both of them were a mess. Minseok hastened to get them both through a quick shower, but Jongdae waved off his nagging to hurry up ("My friends all know I'm a disorganized mess anyways. I can guarantee that none of them actually expect me to be on time."). Their time elapsed was extended further when Jongdae insisted on putting eyeliner on both himself _and_ Minseok. Minseok had never worn eyeliner before, but he couldn't deny it made him look more intense—not in the same "we both know you're thinking about dropping to your knees for me" look that it gave Jongdae, but . . .

Well. Maybe it made him look a little bit like that.

Jongdae put on black jeans with tears in the knees, a studded belt, and thighs and a black t-shirt with a band logo, the collar and sleeves ripped off. The jeans made his ass look delicious. He smirked when he caught Minseok looking. The outfit, in Minseok's opinion, was gaudy as all hell, and shouldn't have looked as good as Jongdae made it.

Minseok himself dressed more conservatively in dark wash jeans and a navy button-up. Standing in the doorway, Minseok couldn't help but laugh.

Head tilting, Jongdae asked, "What's so funny?"

"You look like a college kid, and I look like an actual adult. People are going to think I'm your sugar daddy."

"I'm still not against that, by the way," Jongdae chirped before tugging Minseok out the door.

"And _I'm_ still not that rich."

Their destination noraebang was within walking distance. At the mid-point was a vendor selling bulgogi kebabs, and Jongdae barely had to do any whining at all to get Minseok to stop and buy a pair for both of them. The signature double-curls in Jongdae's smile were on full throtle the whole way to the noraebang, and once their skewers were thrown away, he tucked Minseok's hand into his own. Warmth seeped from Minseok's chest to every part of his body, quirking the corners of his mouth up.

Jongdae's friends were already there and had taken over a room, so they were led back to it once they entered the venue. The room itself was fairly classy compared to other places Minseok had seen, with a huge, modern flat-screen television, neon blue lights, and long, sleek couches. Sitting on the couches were, presumably, Jongdae's friends. All heads turned when they walked in, and a chorus of greetings met them.

"He finally blesses us with his presence," a tall, stoic-faced man deadpanned.

"Aw, Sehun, I missed you too," Jongdae cooed, immediately diving forward to trap the man in a headlock, and he planted an obnoxiously loud smooch right on the side of his face. Sehun floundered about for a second, but his scrunched face also bore a pleased smile. "My favorite maknae."

"Your _only_ maknae."

"Is this your lawyer?" another man curiously asked.

"This is Minseok," Jongdae said. "Minseok, these are my friends!"

There was Sehun, who reintroduced himself with considerably less snark to Minseok than he had shown Jongdae. Beside him was a girl named Sejeong, whose eyes bent into crescents when she smiled and, curiously, used "hyung" instead of "oppa." On the other end of the couch was Jongin, quiet but smiling, and beside him, his more talkative boyfriend, Taemin. On the next couch, a woman—and Minseok had interacted enough with Lay to spot a Chinese accent right away at this point, no matter how subtle—introduced herself as Liyin with a kind smile. Next was Hyeran, who gave a small wave with one hand, the other held on her lap by the last man, the puppy-faced Baekhyun who had asked if Minseok was the lawyer.

"You look much shorter than I was expecting you to look," Baekhyun said. Hyeran immediately smacked him on the arm, and he whined through a smile. "I didn't mean it in a bad way! When I hear 'lawyer' I immediately think intimidating, slimy, and _tall,_ even if Jongdae said you were nice!"

"What exactly has Jongdae been saying about me?" Minseok teased, eyes cutting over to the man in question.

Jongdae kicked out at Baekhyun, but was too far to make contact, making Baekhyun cackle. "Nothing bad, and definitely nothing that Baekhyun needs to repeat."

"I'll repeat them if you're nice to me," Baekhyun chirped at Minseok. "By the way, I'm the best friend that you need to impress for my blessing of this relationship. We're in the 19-plus room which means you can win me over by buying me drinks."

"We're adults, I absolutely do not need your blessing," Jongdae objected at the same time Hyeran rolled her eyes and said, "You're a terror." Baekhyun crowed at them.

As the birthday boy, Jongdae was cajoled by his friends to do a solo first while Minseok settled to watch. Minseok had heard Jongdae's singing voice very briefly in the form of humming, but it was his first time hearing Jongdae like this, casting out beautiful melodies and high notes that were almost unrealistic in their clarity. Baekhyun joined him for a duet, showing off a voice as strong and dazzling as Jongdae's, but the true charm of their performance was their chemistry, the way they humorously danced, playfully batted at each other, and tried to make the other mess up. They truly must have known each other for a long time; their easy teasing, their sense of humor, even the pitch and lengths of their whines were similar. Even though Jongdae had been right about not needing "approval," Minseok still found himself trying to earn it, to prove himself worthy of Jongdae.

Despite Baekhyun's earlier declaration, though, it was Liyin who ended up quietly vetting Minseok while others took their turns singing. She asked him more about what he did, about his background, about his hobbies and skills. "I'm not looking for right answers," she hastily added, "it's just it's just that Jongdae hasn't been seriously interested in anyone in such a long time. I'm curious about you."

Minseok pretended that he didn't feel flattered by the part about being the only one Jongdae had been "seriously interested in" recently. Pretended that his heart didn't speed up.

Jongdae's friends were good-natured and welcoming, and expressed their approval of his brand of kind teasing directed at Jongdae. Sehun called him "Minseok-hyung" on accident, but over his frantic apologies, Minseok insisted it was okay, that he'd prefer it, and immediately the rest of the group dropped formalities as well.

"I like him," Baekhyun said to Hyeran. To Minseok, he repeated: "I like you. You're good people." Then finally, to Jongdae: "Hey, Jongdae! Minseok is good."

Jongdae just rolled his eyes and moved to sit by Minseok. Leaning against him, he turned to whisper in Minseok's ear, "I'm glad they like you. I'm happy."

Minseok turned and pecked Jongdae's temple. Jongdae hummed and snuggled closer to his side, making Hyeran coo. This was nice. He liked meeting Jongdae's friends. He liked feeling like Jongdae was opening up his life, offering Minseok the opportunity to carve out his niche in it.

They ended the night with a cake almost too pretty to eat, and all go their separate ways after a long, animated farewell in front of the venue, with everyone extracting promises out of Jongdae to bring Minseok around again sometime. Minseok was all too pleased with how easily Jongdae acquiesced.

They walked back to Minseok's house hand-in-hand. Jongdae was uncharacteristically demure, but smiling. "I didn't tell you what Chanyeol got for me for my birthday, did I?"

"You didn't," Minseok said as a way of asking him to go on. He unlocked the door and led the way in.

"A joke book. A fucking joke book. For _kids._ " Jongdae shook his head with a noise of fond exasperation. "And then he asked if he could borrow it."

"Did you let him?" Minseok asked. They slipped off their shoes.

" _Hell_ no. I don't need to give him anything else to harass me with. You only hear the lawyer jokes, but he really just likes bad jokes in general, and he makes us suffer through them all night."

Minseok laughed and followed Jongdae to the bedroom, where the latter flopped back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

"Sunyoung knows a lot of bad jokes too, but it's moreso because her sister tells them and she doesn't want to suffer alone." After a pause, Minseok added carefully, "I think you'll like my present more."

Jongdae turned his head without lifting it up and smiled. "You didn't have to get me anything, but I'd definitely be lying if I said I wasn't hoping you would."

Truthfully, Minseok wasn't entirely sure he should have gotten Jongdae a present. At least not the type of present Minseok had acquired. Regardless of how familiar they'd become within the past few weeks, at the bottom line, their relationship was never made officially serious. But the gift idea seeded as soon as it came, and Minseok knew Jongdae wasn't one to turn down material gifts.

The gift in question was in the back of Minseok's endtable drawer, in a miniature sized gift bag that fit in Minseok's palm. He dug it out now and offered the bag to Jongdae, who sat up to receive it. "Cute," he chuckled, probably meaning the size of the bag. He dipped his fingers in it, moved around the tiny tissue paper, and pulled out a mesh drawstring sack, emerald green in color. Now able to see the contents of the bag, Jongdae slowed his movements. Minseok watched his face carefully, but there was no expression there to scrutinize, nothing to give away what Jongdae thought.

Jongdae pulled open the mouth of the bag and gently dropped the pair of earrings into his palm. The posts and bases of the studs were metallic gray in color, and the gems were black opal, dispersing light in blues and greens and coppers.

Jongdae was quiet at first. Minseok was tempted to fill the silence, but he knew it would only emphasize his anxiety, so he waited for Jongdae to finally speak.

"These are real opals, aren't they?" Jongdae said more than asked. "Not the synthetic stuff."

"It's mostly opal, but there's obsidian beneath it to keep it darker." Maybe that fact would keep Jongdae from feeling burdened by its cost. "It's your birthday," Minseok said. "Let me spoil you."

Jongdae huffed out a laugh, and although small and breathy, it sounded genuine, and the tension in Minseok's chest released. "You spoil me enough. I know I talk about wanting a sugar daddy, but this is . . . a lot." He swallowed. "I'd probably be a bad sugar baby, to be honest." He finally made eye contact, revealing an earnest countenance. "But thank you, hyung. I'll treasure this."

Minseok sighed in relief. "I almost thought you were going to refuse it," he said. He took the studs back and slipped off their backs. Jongdae kept still when Minseok pushed the first earring through the hole. "Maybe I overstepped my boundaries, but I really wanted to get these in particular. They match your style, and they're classy enough for you to be able to wear them at work."

"What a thoughtful hyung," Jongdae cooed. Minseok had both earrings in now and worked on returning the backs to their posts. When Minseok's hands withdrew, Jongdae fished his phone out of his pocket and held it up to his face, using the camera to look at the earrings. He took a picture or two of himself, and as Minseok started to pull away, Jongdae yanked him back down on the bed. "Smile!"

Minseok let himself be prodded for a few pictures. He pretended to be reluctant, but he was beyond pleased that Jongdae liked his gift, wanted to show it, and maybe Minseok, off using whatever social media platform he posted the pictures to right after.

Jongdae tossed his phone towards the foot of the bed, and when it fell off the side, he completely ignored it in favor of suddenly pushing Minseok's chest down. Minseok landed on his back, and Jongdae pivoted to face him, swinging one of his legs over Minseok's hip. The earrings flashed green for a moment before falling dark again, as dark as Jongdae's eyes were.

"Wanna fuck you, hyung," Jongdae whispered, drawing close enough that their noses brushed. "Can I?"

Heat thundered through Minseok's body. "Want you to," Minseok said, hooking his arms around Jongdae's neck, but he let Jongdae be the one to bridge those last few centimeters. The kiss was long and lingering, the kind that warranted a swipe of tongue each time they came together, and suction or teeth on a lip each time they broke apart before rejoining. Jongdae broke away to shuck his shirt, and impatiently plucked at Minseok's buttons from the bottom. Minseok took mercy and started at undoing his buttons from the collar down, and when the shirt fell open, Jongdae extracted Minseok from it in seconds.

Their mouths slotted together again, wet and punctuated with clicking noises that had Minseok slowing down, drawing them out. When he refused to speed up, Jongdae roughly pinched his nipple, making him yelp, and Jongdae snickered into his neck before latching down with teeth and tongue.

Minseok was able to squirm out of his pants from his position, but Jongdae had to physically stand up to peel off the tight jeans. He came back with a bottle of lube.

"It's almost empty," Jongdae said. He crawled across the bed to where Minseok lied, lifting up his legs and kneeling so that the bottoms of Minseok's thighs settled on the tops of Jongdae's own. "We need more." Jongdae scratched his nails down the inside of Minseok's thighs, and Minseok leisurely pushed his hips up, a blatant offering.

With a snort, Minseok said, "What we need is to buy in bulk." Jongdae grinned, flicked the cap open, and slicked his fingers, then set the bottle off to his side. Jongdae pressed his fingertip right at Minseok's hole, rubbing firmly over it but not entering, and Minseok let out a pleased sigh at the stimulation.

Jongdae and Minseok switched off on their sex roles pretty regularly. Minseok had a preference for being on top, so to speak, but Jongdae, while impatient when it came to sex, had developed a particular penchant for trying to wreck Minseok as thoroughly as possible, and that often involved being between Minseok's thighs. Minseok would be lying if he said that he didn't love it. Jongdae's finger rubbed and prodded until Minseok's hips tilted up.

At this point, one finger was nothing. Jongdae pushed in two to the second knuckle, withdrawing, then pushed them back in to the third. Minseok groaned appreciatively. It was delicious, the burn, the pressure that promised fullness in the near future. Using his free hand, Jongdae guided one of Minseok's legs over his shoulder, setting about using his mouth to mottle a hickey into the inside of Minseok's knee. Minseok's toes curled, unprepared for how Jongdae's tongue and teeth could shoot arousal to his cock from a spot that innocuous. Jongdae snickered when Minseok's cock twitched. He fingered Minseok's prostate, and Minseok let out a shakey breath, his head falling to the side.

"You look so hot like this, hyung," Jongdae said into Minseok's knee. He added another finger and immediately crooked all three of them, and Minseok shuddered, basking in the pleasure, a slow, all-encompassing sensation. "You're so put together all the time. I love seeing you like this, shaking and whining. Want to feel you come on my cock."

Minseok gathered himself to taunt, "All bark and no bite. When are you going to walk your talk, Jongdae?"

And Jongdae, for as much as he himself liked playing coy and baiting Minseok, was so, so easy to provoke. His teeth clamped down around the skin of Minseok's leg again, and Minseok hissed in pain and irritation. Jongdae's fingers popped out with a slimy sound. Jongdae spread more lube over his cock. When Minseok tried to unhook his leg from Jongdae's shoulder, Jongdae's hand shot out and kept it there, keeping Minseok spread wide open as he leaned forward. Then he was pushing in, his cock heavy and hot, his eyes dark as he watched it disappear inside Minseok's hole.

Jongdae's hips met Minseok's, and he groaned. "Feel so good, hyung, you're so tight—"

"Stop talking and _fuck me._ "

The first few thrusts were about enjoying the friction and finding a good angle. Jongdae shifted, looped an arm around Minseok's flat leg to hitch it over his waist. The position must have been easier for Jongdae because his pace quickly sped up.

The drag of his cock had Minseok involuntarily clenching, cock pulsing, and he clawed his fingers into he bedsheets. Still, he knew Jongdae could do better than that. "Come on, Jongdae, fuck me as good as I fuck you. You can do that for me, baby, can't you?"

Jongdae scowled, the effect negated by the pleading slant of his brow, the sweat beginning to accumulate at his hairline. But his hips punched forward, boring into Minseok like he wanted to ruin him for anyone else.

Surely Jongdae knew that he already had.

"Just like that," Minseok choked out. Jongdae was filling him up so well, and the friction felt euphoric. "So good for hyung—"

"Fuck." Then Jongdae's hand was on his cock, squeezing and stroking without the wherewithal for finesse. That was a sign that Jongdae wasn't going to last much longer. On any other day, Minseok would tease him, but today he just threw his head back and moaned, thrusting up into Jongdae's fist and back onto his cock, letting go of his self-control for Jongdae's sake.

"Ah—"

"Gonna come?" Jongdae panted, hips all but brutalizing. His fingernails scraped over Minseok's thigh, then yanked him closer. "Gonna come on my cock, hyung?"

"Almost there—a-ah—keep going," Minseok breathed, and Jongdae doubled his efforts.

When Minseok came, he came hard, his vision and mind going blank, lost in his pleasure. Someone was whining, and it must have been him, because Jongdae didn't make noises like that. He gathered his wits as much as he could and knotted his fingers into Jongdae's hair, yanking; Jongdae liked it rough, he knew, and Minseok was rewarded with a stutter in Jongdae's pistoning. "Come for me," he croaked out, voice wrecked. "Come for hyung, Jongdae. Fill me up."

"Fuck," Jongdae said again. "Yeah, yeah, I'll— _shit—_ "

And then Jongdae was slamming home, holding himself there, and came with an animalistic grunt, his body rippling with the force of his orgasm. He held Minseok's gaze the entire time, his mien flinty and seering, as though saying, _You're mine and there's nothing you can do about it._

Minseok didn't want to do anything about it.

Jongdae pulled out. When he let Minseok's leg down, pain shot up his thigh and Minseok hissed.

"What?" Jongdae asked, freezing. "What's wrong?"

"I think my leg cramped up."

Jongdae stared at him for all of two seconds before bursting into laughter. "You really are getting old," Jongdae crowed. "All of that exercise, and for what?"

"That increases my strength, not my flexibility, you brat!"

Regardless, Jongdae carefully rotated Minseok's leg to a more natural position and massaged his muscles with gentle, attentive fingers. It was nice. It would have felt nicer if Minseok wasn't leaking cum. But it was still nice.

Minseok had to poke and prod at Jongdae to convince him to go get something to clean up the mess, not wanting to risk it dripping anywhere else. He whined, but eventually obeyed, even if his version of "cleaning up" involved slowly fingering his own cum back out of Minseok's ass.

"Naptime?" Minseok teased when Jongdae had finally finished and curled up into Minseok's side.

"Shut up," he said happily, sleepily.

Minseok laughed, drawing Jongdae in close. "Was it a good birthday?" He asked after a beat.

Jongdae hummed and kissed underneath Minseok's chin. "The best," he sighed.

+++

Chuseok came and went the way it always did, with good food, good company, and lots of nagging on his mother's part about how he needed to find a man soon, that "You won't be young forever, Minseok, really!" But Minseok's sister and her husband had welcomed their first child over the summer, and thus her attention didn't linger on Minseok for too long, turning instead to coo and fret over her first grandchild.

It was for the best, really. Any more prodding and Minseok might have finally cracked and said, "I _did_ meet someone, Mom. He's amazing."

But Jongdae had been distant over the weekend. He didn't ignore Minseok, but his replies to Minseok's texts on average didn't exceed more than two or three words. Minseok had a feeling his grim mood stemmed from whatever it was that kept Jongdae from getting along with his family. But Jongdae didn't offer up any information, and Minseok knew it wasn't his place to ask. Not yet.

He did, however, manage to get Jongdae on the phone on Sunday evening, and in the middle of their quiet, minimal conversation, Minseok said, "I'm here for you. I know Chuseok is hard. You don't have to tell me anything, but I want you to know that you can."

"Thanks, hyung," came Jongdae's whisper after a few long seconds. He didn't say anything more about it, but his gratitude sounded genuine, and that would have to do for now.

The last day of Chuseok was that Tuesday, meaning the Ministry of Justice offices weren't open until Wednesday. The mark left by the four day weekend could easily be seen in the lethargic movements of everyone in the morning; no one, not the lawyers, interns, cleaning staff, administration staff, or anyone else escaped the shock of coming back to work at nine in the morning after sleeping in for four days straight.

Sunyoung looked ragged, and if she had it in her to glare at her elders, she would be shooting one at Minseok right now. "You look too peppy this morning, oppa."

"I'm really not," Minseok said. "I just didn't have to deal with in-laws all weekend like you."

Sunyoung groaned. "Don't remind me. I love my wife, but her parents are just." She abandoned the rest of her sentence in favor of taking a slow sip of her coffee. Minseok patted her consolingly on the shoulder before parting for the morning.

Having left early, Minseok hadn't been at his desk for the typical Friday evening rush, when everyone seemed to remember that government offices closed at five in the evening and wouldn't reopen until Monday morning, so they scrambled to send last-minute emails and even later phone calls. Some of them even had the temerity to get angry if their demands weren't able to be met within the short time frame. Chuseok only increased the amount of messages the Ministry had to sift through upon return.

These emails and voicemails were the ones to which Minseok devoted the most of his morning. He was so occupied that he completely forgot about the email Kyungsoo had sent him on Friday afternoon; it had already been opened, so his email service didn't highlight it, and therefore it didn't garner Minseok's attention until after everything else had been addressed.

"A small lead," Kyungsoo had written, as though that meant anything anymore. Minseok wanted this case to be done and gone, but it was his responsibility until the city decided to drop it. It was kind of surprising that they hadn't yet, honestly. The fact that officials wanted to go after a jopok in general was phenomenal. But continuing the investigation after everything that had happened? Was that really logical? Or was it just a waste of time and resources at this point?

It wasn't Minseok's call to make, though, so he sighed and downloaded the file Kyungsoo had attached to the email.

So the SMPA had identities. It sounded a bit useless; even if they had the exact identities of every single Yongsung-pa member and affiliate, they legally wouldn't be able to do anything with that information until connections to this case were established. And how were they to know which of the members were loyal and which were dissenters? Minseok didn't see the point of collecting this information.

He opened the document and scrolled through it. It was a giant spreadsheet of different suspected and confirmed Yongsung-pa members. Some cells were more detailed than others, but overall, it was a massive amount of data. Upon further inspection, there were notations on some individuals refering to other cases that were associated with them. That sort of information could potentially be of use to Minseok.

It was unlikely. But it _could._

Just as Minseok was about to close the document—he did have other, more fruitful cases to work on—a familiar face caught his eye.

The woman had genteel features, balanced slightly by natural aegyo-sal. Her name was listed as Song Qian in both Hangul and standardized Chinese. Minseok knew he recognized her, but couldn't remember the context in which he knew her. Her name was alien, but her face definitely wasn't.

A voice suddenly came to mind, and he could remember it so clearly that he could almost hear the words out loud: _Ah, you must be Minseok. It's nice to meet you._

_I'm Victoria._

Victoria. That was Jongdae's _boss_ at Elyxion. Jongdae worked for a member of the Yongsung-pa.

Fuck. _Fuck._ Minseok's stomach dropped. How long has this been going on? Did Jongdae know?

Was Jongdae _involved?_

He urgently scrolled through the document again, and he wish he wasn't looking for Jongdae's name and face, but he was, he was. When he found nothing, he exhaled, relieved, but not completely. He needed to calm down. He had no reason to mistrust Jongdae; his name wasn't on this list, and just as importantly, Minseok had seen every inch of Jongdae's body multiple times, and there definitely was no dragon tattoo, the mandatory identifying mark of the Yongsung-pa.

Did Victoria know about Minseok's connection to the Yongsung-pa case? Surely not. Minseok hadn't said anything about it to anyone outside of its direct sphere, save for Sunyoung, but even she didn't know specific details, nor did she have access to his files.

He had to talk to Jongdae about this, find out what he knew, if he could even potentially help. Minseok wasn't sure what this all meant, or if it would even be relevant at all at the end of the day. But he had to investigate all of his options. More importantly, Victoria's membership with the Yongsung-pa could put Jongdae himself in danger.

_(12:29 PM) Are you going to be home tonight? <_

He didn't realize until after he sent the text that he referred to it as simply "home" to Jongdae, like it was _their_ home.

_> (1:51 PM) i'll be there ♥_

Dazed and stressed, it was difficult for Minseok to focus on his workload for the rest of the day. Compartmentalization was always one of his strengths, but this was a lot to process at once. He wished he could drive over to Jongdae's home right now and talk to him about it, but he couldn't leave now after taking a short day on Friday and then a four day weekend. He could always show up at Elyxion right when it opened and ask to speak to Jongdae there; the matter was dire enough. But then he ran the risk of Victoria being around. Besides, he didn't know what to expect from this conversation. It would best be held in a private place, safe from unwanted eavesdroppers.

So Minseok tried his best to work on the cases that he could, the ones that didn't have him breaking laws or fretting for the safety of lovers. Luckily, his productivity was matched by those of his coworkers, still groggy from the long weekend, so if he was a bit slower than usual, no one called him out on it, if they even noticed at all.

He skipped his workout that night and came home to an empty house. Unable to settle down, he paced, stress cleaned his entire kitchen and dining room, and then promptly passed out on the couch.

Angry buzzing in his pocket is what ended up waking him up. He groggily fished out his phone and answered. By the time he lifted it to his ear, Jongdae had already started speaking.

"Hey, you're alive. I'm outside your door right now and I've been knocking but you didn't answer. Are you not home?"

"Fell asleep," Minseok slurred, running a hand over his face, then back up through his hair. He probably looked like a mess, still in his now-wrinkled suit, his hair sticking up in all directions. "Be right there."

It wasn't until after he hung up that he remembered exactly what he needed to talk to Jongdae about in the first place. Immediately, the drowsiness surged away from his body, leaving behind nervous agitation. Minseok took a deep breath and steeled himself before going to let Jongdae in.

Jongdae, still dressed in his bartender uniform, greeted Minseok with a smile. "Hi, sleeping beauty," he sing-songed, leaning in to kiss Minseok on the cheek. Jongdae toed off his shoes and started down the hall—he probably had the intention of changing his clothes. He had some of his own clothes here, but had acquired a taste for Minseok's own clothes. Just another way Jongdae had fit himself into Minseok's life.

Minseok cared about Jongdae so much. That's why the idea of him being peripherally connected to the Yongsung-pa terrified him.

This conversation couldn't wait. "Jongdae," he called, and reached out to gently grab Jongdae's wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

"Hyung?" Jongdae asked.

Minseok didn't know how to say "we need to talk" without sounding like he was about to break up with Jongdae, so he didn't say anything at all. He guided Jongdae back to the living room and sat down, waiting for Jongdae to do the same. Jongdae's eyebrows furrowed, and he looked at Minseok quizzically.

So Minseok started to explain. "So, right now, one of my cases involves jopok activity in Seoul. And today I read through a list of members whose active statuses within the jopok have been confirmed by the SMPA."

He watched Jongdae's face carefully while he talked, so he saw the way something flickered through Jongdae's eyes, the way his jaw suddenly clenched, and, oh. Those. Those weren't good signs. Neither was him firmly withdrawing his wrist from Minseok's grip.

Minseok licked his lips. "Your boss, Victoria, was on that list."

Jongdae studied at Minseok, the analytical glint in his gaze making it seem colder than typical. When he spoke, Minseok didn't process his voice into meaning until several seconds had passed.

"I know."

Once the words sunk in, Minseok said dumbly, "You know."

"Yes."

"You know that your boss is a member of the Yongsung-pa," Minseok said, no longer skirting around which jopok they were talking about, "and you didn't report her?"

"No," Jongdae said with a frown. "Victoria was the one who took me off the streets. She gave me a new life. I'm not going to report her."

"Being affiliated with her could get you hurt, Jongdae," Minseok pressed. "That's what happens when you're part of a jopok. They threaten those around you, or those who care about you, to get what they want." Minseok would know.

"The Yongsung-pa wouldn't hurt Victoria, or me, or anyone else working at Elyxion," Jongdae said, scowling. Minseok remembered Zitao saying something similar of Luhan.

"No one at Elyxion," Minseok repeated. "Why do you sound so sure about that?"

Jongdae opened his mouth. Closed it. And Minseok knew.

"Does Elyxion belong to the Yongsung-pa?" Minseok said quietly.

Jongdae looked Minseok right in the eye and didn't answer.

"Shit." Minseok stepped back and combed his hand through his hair. He should have known that the moment he encountered Luhan in the elevator. "Shit. That's why you had people who were able to rent out the whole bar, wasn't it? They owned it anyways." He imagined Kyuhyun, Soojung, Luhan, and a handful of faceless other high-ranking jopok members lounging in Elyxion, casually discussing their hitlist as Jongdae and Chanyeol served them their fucking _drinks._

Their hitlist, which Minseok was maybe on, because they knew about Minseok, knew what he was looking into. The same hitlist that maybe listed Lay's real name, Yixing, too, because they also knew about him, knew what he had done, knew where he was hiding.

Knew where he was hiding.

"You," Minseok realized, feeling the floor drop out from underneath his feet. "It was _you._ You found my casefiles and you _told_ them."

That was why, after Zhoumi's murder, it had been discovered that the Yongsung-pa had already been covering up their trail. That was why they knew where Lay was living—Minseok had written down his address and put it in his files. The same exact files that he had brought home multiple times, eager to get out of the office to see Jongdae himself.

There was no mole in the midst of the SMPA. It had been Jongdae all along.

Jongdae didn't deny it, and Minseok didn't know if that made him feel better or worse. "That first night, you brought your work home. I woke up before you and took a peek at the files you had left on the table because I was curious. I didn't realize that you were working on a case about the Yongsung-pa before I saw those, but when I saw everything you had learned, I had to take pictures and send them to Victoria. I _had_ to, Minseok. I'm not—I'm not a jopok member, but they did save me. They're why I am where I am today. If they go down, I go down with them."

"That's not—that's not how this works, Jongdae!" Minseok felt his chest tightening, and he breathed heavily to try to loosen the tension. Maybe if he had been calmer, he would have found comfort in the fact that at least Jongdae wasn't Yongsung-pa himself. "They're criminals. You aren't—for fuck's sake, you don't owe them anything."

"I grew up poor as fuck, Minseok," Jongdae hissed. "My family did jack _shit_ for me. Once I was old enough, I did _really shitty things_ that I can't even talk about now to pay the bills. Once you get caught up in that sort of thing, it's almost impossible to escape. You know who was the one to get me out of that hellhole? It was _Victoria._ Victoria was the one who gave me a job. Victoria gave me a place to _live_ before I could afford to live on my own. The Yongsung-pa protected us." Jongdae scoffed. "Some lawyer comes around and threatens to take it all down? You can't expect me to do nothing."

"You knew who I was all this time, and you kept up our relationship to get information." Minseok's voice sounded strange to his own ears. He absently felt himself sit down on one of the chairs at the kitchen table, as though his consciousness wasn't connected to his own body.

All at once, Jongdae's expression lost its edge. "No, no, hyung, fuck. At first, maybe, but this—you—us—I haven't done it in _weeks—_ "

"But you used our relationship to open up a channel of information," Minseok pressed, "and you passed on all of that information to the Yongsung-pa?"

"Our relationship wasn't serious at first," Jongdae pleaded. "I just—I didn't think you would become so, so . . . _important_ to me—"

"That doesn't make it better!" Minseok exploded, and he had never in his life felt so out of control of himself, of anything, like he was watching a trainwreck in slow motion and couldn't do anything to stop it. His blood boiled hot, his heart thudding against his chest like a war drum. "This isn't a movie! Things won't magically become fixed just because you revealed your tragic backstory, or because you decided that you're in love with me. The Yongsung-pa are bad guys. They're criminals. People almost _died_ because of them, Jongdae, because they were acting on the information you told them. People might still die, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to prevent it next time."

Jongdae looked stricken. "What do you mean, people almost died?"

"Did I fucking stutter?" Minseok asked flatly. "I had things they didn't want me to have. They blackmailed me using other people's lives, and I . . ." He didn't go on or elaborate; Jongdae knowing the extent of the results of his actions wouldn't change anything. And who was to say that Jongdae wouldn't pass on any information Minseok divulged now? He closed his eyes and dug his fingers into his temples, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. He held his head in his hands and stared at the ground. Feeling both resolute and sick to his stomach, he said, "You need to leave."

"No," Jongdae immediately said, eyes wide, mouth parted, because he knew, they both knew, that Minseok didn't just mean leave his house, didn't just mean leave for now. "Minseok, no."

"Did you think this was a game?" Minseok's own words cleaved through him, making everything that more real. "Your actions have consequences. I won't report you, or Victoria, but I just. I had to forfeit the chance of winning this case. These criminals, these murderers, are going to remain free now, and I can't do anything to change it." It was the first time he had admitted it out loud: that he had lost, and more important than his pride was the fact that people were going to suffer because of these criminals were going to go free. He finally looked over at Jongdae, head still turned down. "How can I stay with you now that I know your role in that?"

"Minseok," Jongdae begged. Minseok waited, but Jongdae obviously didn't know what to say. What _could_ he say? _I'm sorry?_ Was he even sorry at all? Sorry that he did it, or that Minseok found out? Sorry that Lay or Zitao, people that he didn't know, were almost killed indirectly because of him?

So Minseok straightened up and put his hands on his lap, moved his gaze to the wall across from them. He felt empty, hollow. "It's ironic," Minseok said. "I wasn't going to save him at first. I didn't need to; as long as I had the evidence and the witness, I could win, and that was all that mattered." He took in a breath, and was disgusted to find that it was shakey. "But it was you, you know? I asked myself how I would feel if we were in their shoes, and it was your life on the line, and I couldn't—" His eyes throbbed, burned. "I couldn't—"

But the words wouldn't come out, stuck somewhere in his throat. Jongdae was silent. Minseok didn't dare to look at him.

So Minseok finally said, "Go, Jongdae," and Jongdae stood up, and Minseok listened to him stand there silently for a few moments. Then he heard Jongdae move to the door, slip on his shoes.

And Jongdae left.

+++

Without telling Kyungsoo, Lay, Sunyoung, or anyone else, Minseok asked the city to drop the case. _At this point, our resources would be better allocated to more fruitful endeavors,_ he wrote, along with some bullshit about the Yongsung-pa not being as active as they were now that they were facing rebellion from within the ranks. It was a blatant lie. There was another murder during the first week of October.

He expected the response denying his request, but that didn't keep his shoulders from slumping, or keep the tension headache from coming on. He had been hoping, at the very least, for an offer to transfer the case to another attorney, but there was nothing of the sort, and Minseok knew better than to ask.

(The same day he got a response from the city, Minseok also received a text.

_> (4:34 AM) can we talk?_

Minseok didn't reply.)

The SMPA kept working on the investigation, and as usual, Kyungsoo forwarded any relevant information to Minseok. But updates were few and far between. Unless something completely unexpected happened, or they magically stumbled upon breakthrough evidence, Minseok had no new content around which to build his case. He buried himself in his other cases, went to court, won his trials, lather, rinse, repeat, and wondered if there was a point to doing any of it.

His drive to win had vanished. There was no one to look forward to coming home to. Sunyoung was a stable point of support as always, but there was only so much Minseok could share with her.

He could be a little more honest with Lay, and he found himself at his house increasingly often. Lay, who had been in his prison of protective custody for at least three months now, who looked increasingly hopeless as the days went on.

Minseok brought over two bottles of rice wine one night, and they drank until Lay insisted that Minseok slept over, that it was too dangerous to drive back home with the amount they'd consumed, and Minseok was too exhausted to disagree. He woke up on the couch to an uncomfortable knot in his neck and the smells and sounds of Lay cooking in the kitchen. Eyes bleary, Minseok heaved himself off of the couch and dragged his feet into the kitchen.

Lay's face had a puffy-like quality to it, and his eyes were droopier than normal. "I haven't drunk alcohol in months," he said as both an explanation and a greeting when he saw Minseok.

Minseok hadn't drunk since he was last at Elyxion. Since Jongdae. A thought occurred to him: Did Lay know that Elyxion and the hotel it belonged to was owned by the Yongsung-pa?

Couldn't hurt to ask, Minseok supposed. "The Yongsung-pa own a hotel with a bar in it called Elyxion. Sound familiar?"

Lay hummed an affirmative. "We used to go there for meetings, sometimes. I didn't know we owned it, though. We usually rented venues when we met up in public. If the Yongsung-pa owns it, that would go entirely through Soojung. Kyuhyun, Luhan, and I weren't involved in anything like owning and managing properties, for the most part."

Minseok's laugh was bitter. He heard his response, but it felt like it came out of someone else's mouth, not his own: "If I had asked you about it earlier, I probably could have saved everyone a lot of stress and heartache."

"What do you mean, hyung?"

Minseok regarded Lay with stoic scrutiny as thoughts churned through his head. Lay was one of the most trustworthy people he met; the only reason why he would betray someone's trust is if he thought their safety was compromised. Minseok wasn't in any danger, and, hell, he had to admit it to himself: He didn't want to stay silent about all of this. He wanted someone to know what happened.

And more than anything, he wanted to know if he did the right thing. If saving Lay and Zitao was worth breaking the law and Kyungsoo's faith, worth sacrificing his guilty verdicts, worth the continued threat of future deaths at the behest of Luhan and the others. If leaving Jongdae because of his betrayal was worth the pain he felt now.

And Lay could very well tell Kyungsoo about the stolen gun, but from what Minseok knew about Lay so far, he would be grateful enough, regardless if he thought Minseok did the right thing, to not mention it.

Minseok started his story with, "I had been seeing a bartender from Elyxion."

He went through the story step-by-step, making sure that he was delivering every event in chronological order: dating Jongdae, encountering Luhan, his moral dilemma, his original decision and the thoughts that caused him to change his mind, encountering Zitao, discovering Victoria's involvement, and finally, Jongdae's betrayal. Lay listened intently, his face dynamic with expressions of interest, shock, worry, but not once did he look angry or betrayed, not even when Minseok admitted to almost relaying his experience with Luhan to Kyungsoo and therefore leaving Zitao to his fate.

When Minseok was done, his hands were shaking. Lay leaned back and stared at him for a few seconds, before emphatically whispering, "Thank you."

"Thank you?" Minseok scoffed. "In hindsight, don't you think Luhan was bluffing? I sacrificed our case on a bluff. I could have had you and maybe even Zitao free by now. I could have had Luhan, Kyuhyun, and Soojung, and maybe even a few others, in prison. But instead I panicked and sacrificed all of it."

"How can you call that panic?" Lay frowned. "Hyung, what you did was brave. You risked getting caught committing a felony just to save Zitao, someone you didn't even know. And at the end of the day, you haven't completely given up. Even if you feel defeated, you're still here, aren't you?"

"I lost, Lay," Minseok disagreed. "We lost. Even if I did do the right thing at the time, it doesn't matter now."

"You lost? How did you lose?" It was the first time Minseok had heard Lay angry, but even his scowl was tender, the way Lay always was. "Zitao doesn't know Luhan like I do—he never makes empty threats. Even without knowing that, you kept everyone safe the best you could, and you acted in accordance with your values. To me, that means you won. And maybe those values are different than they were before, but you grew. You fell in love, didn't you? That changes a person. You changed. And that's okay." In a whisper, he repeated, "That's okay," never once looking away.

Minseok closed his eyes, let the words sink in. "My values have changed," he echoed. And they had, hadn't they? There are things, people, for which and whom Minseok was now willing to make sacrifices. Fuck, he needed to stop avoiding the heart of the matter—it was Jongdae. Jongdae had changed his view on things. He cared for Lay, but ultimately, it was his relationship with Jongdae that gave him the context for his decision. "I really am in love with him, aren't I?" He had known, of course. It wasn't a big secret. But it was different, hearing it out loud, from his own mouth, from Lay's. It sounded good. True.

"It sounds like Jongdae's values changed too," Lay said, his head tilting. "Don't you think he grew enough while with you to deserve a second chance?"

Jongdae admitted himself that he had grown to care for Minseok. Maybe Jongdae had acted in defense of the Yongsung-pa in the same way that Minseok had thought that he had lost everything—they were feelings begot from habit, even if their true values had changed.

"Thank you, Lay," Minseok said.

Lay smiled. "It's Yixing."

+++

But seeking reconciliation with Jongdae was easier said than done. Minseok didn't know the right words to say, or how he could ask if Jongdae was trustworthy now and get an answer he wanted, didn't know how he could even believe that answer. Maybe Jongdae didn't want to be with him at all anymore. It had been Minseok to throw Jongdae out; that could have been enough to sabotage what he and Jongdae had. Besides, Jongdae had tried reaching out with his text requesting to talk, and Minseok hadn't replied, which was a response in and of itself.

If there was a dignified way of reconnecting with Jongdae, Minseok hadn't discovered it yet. And maybe dignity wasn't necessary here, but Minseok didn't want to brashly charge in without a game plan. What if he showed up at Jongdae's work unannounced, and it was construed as stalking? He wasn't that sort of man.

But he had to do _something._ He couldn't just leave things as they were. But he needed a plan of some sort. Maybe a speech. His nicest suit and tie, perhaps, and his best cologne. Anything to lend him the confidence he needed to confront this. Even as he thought it, he knew that such grandstanding wouldn't be well-received, and he was back to square one again. Maybe he was overthinking this.

Meanwhile, Yixing had returned to Minseok his drive to solve the Yongsung-pa case, and he was no longer leaving Kyungsoo's correspondance to rot in the dark corners of his inbox.

But neither was he slacking off on the rest of his caseload. For the first time in weeks, Minseok walked out of the court room addressing his latest case with a smile on his face, confidence stretching out the line of his shoulders. He had led the prosecution to victory, but rather than feeling like he won a match, it felt like he had served his community by putting a criminal behind bars where they belonged. And it felt good. Minseok felt good.

When he got back, Sunyoung was loitering in the lobby, a beverage carrier set down on the information desk next to her. "You're glowing," she observed, smiling behind his cup. "You must have won. As usual." She passed over one of the cups.

Minseok took it, appreciating the warmth against his hands and on his tongue with a pleased hum. October had stolen more clouds and humidity than any of the summer months, but with November drawing near, the temperatures were beginning to dip below the mark where Minseok could tolerate without a sweater of some sort. The hot coffee was welcomed. "Thanks," he said, bringing the drink close enough that he could feel the heat against his lips, his nose, his cheeks.

"You might want to take that with you to go, though. There's someone waiting in your office. He said he wouldn't leave until he personally met with you."

Minseok sighed into the lip of his cup. "Of course," Minseok groaned. In his experience, it was either a stuffy suit from the Ministry with delusions of Minseok being a miracle worker or a defense attorney who wanted to hash out a plea bargain before a case went to trial. Neither was any type of person Minseok felt like dealing with right now, but work was work. Besides, he felt so fulfilled right now that it would take a lot to drag him down.

"A lot" happened to be sitting in front of Minseok's desk, dressed in dark wash jeans and a white sweatshirt. He jolted when Minseok came in and swung his head around to look at him with wide eyes.

"Oh," Minseok said.

Seeing Jongdae in his workplace was surreal, and that was understatement. Seeing Jongdae at all was unexpected, but here, dressed in casual clothes, in his personal office? It was like two worlds coming together in a way that didn't fit; Jongdae, sleek and teasing and noncommittal, in Minseok's place of work, a manifestation of calculation, logic, and professionalism.

Minseok shut the door behind him, the click bearing a note of finality, like a curtain was just pulled up and all of the stage performers, ready or not, were exposed.

Minseok wasn't ready. He bought himself time by slowing his gait, taking his time to reach his seat and sit, putting the expanse of the desk between himself and Jongdae.

Jongdae had to have had a game plan. He was _here,_ after all. But when Jongdae took a deep breath, his mouth froze open, and he ended up closing it again, brows puckering. He licked his lip.

Jongdae's anxiety tempered Minseok's own. "You can talk," he said gently.

An aborted snarl flickered through the muscle framing Jongdae's nose, but was gone in a flash. "Don't patronize me," he grumbled, but it seemed to push him to open up. He huffed and looked to the side. "I had a whole speech planned and everything, but now that I'm here, I can't remember any of it. I thought I'd just waltz in, try to sweep you off your feet. That sort of thing."

Minseok felt his mouth twitching up in a smile and he beat it down as best as he could. He had missed this, had missed Jongdae, but like this, with Jongdae right in front of him, he was even more acutely aware of what he had lost. "You're too scrawny to sweep anyone off their feet. Leave the sweeping to me."

"You're such a—" Jongdae choked on his own words and fell quiet again.

"I'm sorry," Minseok said.

Jongdae eyes shot up. Minseok had missed their dynamism. " _You're_ sorry?"

"For not talking it out with you," Minseok elaborated. "I didn't give you a chance. I just . . . assumed that you weren't trustworthy anymore when I found out what happened. You tried to tell me that things were different now, and I didn't listen."

As Minseok spoke, Jongdae's jaw fell farther and farther down, until his expression was open in an unattractive gape. He snapped his mouth shut with an audible click, and Minseok raised an eyebrow. "Fuck," Jongdae said. "No, hyung, I was the one who fucked up. I'm the one that needs to apologize. My actions didn't exactly inspire trust on your part. I thought I was just protecting those I felt indebted to, but I didn't stop to think if my actions would impact other people. And that was before I—before I fell in love with you."

Jongdae's face flushed pink, and Minseok's smile finally came out in full force, gummy and crooked. He couldn't help it. He had known, of course, but it was nice, more than nice, to hear it out loud. "Shut up," Jongdae grumbled. In a normal voice, he said, "Actions speak louder than words though. So."

Then Jongdae fished something out of his pocket, small enough to hide in his closed fist. He deposited it on the desk in front of Minseok.

A flash drive.

Minseok picked it up and turned it over in his hand. "What is this?"

"You know that the Yongsung-pa sometimes close Elyxion to the public so they can have their meetings? I hid video cameras in the room."

Minseok's eyes bugged. "You . . . what?"

"Did your hearing go in the last month, old man?" Jongdae sniped, his attitude belying his discomfort. Jongdae was genuinely kind, but didn't like people to know that. "I'm not good at technology or anything, but it was pretty simple. I set up two different camcorders—like, the cheap ones that you can hold with one hand—in the room, both near the table they always sit at. I pressed record before they got there, and by the end of the night I had over an hour worth of video on each camcorder. I thought that they'd totally find them, but they never did." He reached across the desk and tapped the flash drive in Minseok's hand with his index finger. "I recorded two different meetings and put the content from both camcorders on there. The audio and video are crystal clear. I didn't listen to everything, but it sounded incriminating enough to me. Hopefully you can use at least some of it." He wrung his hands together. "I can testify if you need me to, too."

There had to be a catch. It was too easy, to have something like this just handed to him. But as he scrutinized Jongdae, he was met with nothing but an earnest, if somewhat nervous, expression.

Minseok looked back down at the flash drive, ran his thumb over it. "If the evidence is solid enough . . . fuck, Jongdae, we can finally be done with this case. We can finally wrap this up." Then he met Jongdae's anxious gaze head-on. "Thank you."

Jongdae's shoulders slumped in relief. The innermost part of his eyebrows slanted up; that was how Minseok knew his smile was genuine. "I'm going to be honest. A part of me was convinced you were just going to tell me to buzz off because it wasn't any of my business anymore, or you didn't want my help anyways."

"No, absolutely not, this is—this is fantastic. You're fantastic. Jongdae, I."

"You're speechless, I get it," Jongdae said, grin turning lecherous. "If you want to properly thank me, I have an idea or two." The grin faded into something uncertain, and he seemed to shrink in on himself, shoulders curled forward and hands tucked in his lap. Minseok wanted to coax him back out, smooth out the bend in his spine until his posture was confident again. "I probably shouldn't make jokes like that anymore, huh? We're not even . . . It's just habit at this point, I guess."

There was a question there, complected in between the words and tones, and Minseok had his answer.

"If we were to get back together," Minseok started, and Jongdae's mien was both guarded and hopeful in equal measures. "If we did," Minseok started again, "it would have to be serious. No more messy lines. Both of us would have to be committed to making it work. And we need to be open with each other."

"Yes," Jongdae breathed. He bit his lower lip, and Minseok imagined going over there and sucking it back out from under his teeth. "You're not obligated to do this because I got the recordings for you. I didn't do it because I wanted to pander to you or anything like that. I did it because I made a mistake and I wanted to make it right."

"I know you did," Minseok said honestly, a corner of his lips rolling upwards. "I didn't fall in love with an ass-kisser."

"I mean," said Jongdae, breathless and trying to hide it with what was unfolding to be an innappropriate insinuation, but he couldn't even finish saying it before he was scrambling around the desk, and then Minseok had a lapful of bartender, hands scrabbling to get a grip on the fabric at Minseok's collar before lugging him into a kiss that was, in Minseok's opinion, not only sweet and adamant, but also long overdue.

Between kisses, Minseok said, "So, a bartender walks into the Ministry of Justice—"

"Oh, shut the fuck up, Minseok," Jongdae hissed, bringing Minseok's smiling mouth back to his.

+++

Minseok was there the first time Yixing and Zitao reunited. Minseok and Yixing had been waiting in a private meeting room—ironically, the one in which they had first met all those months ago, when Yixing had been introduced as Lay. Yixing wrung his hands nervously, waiting for the official verdict of whether or not Zitao was going to be released from police custody or whether he was going to be detained and tried.

Yixing had stopped wringing his hands together and was now pacing across the length of the room. His nervous energy was strong enough to have Minseok's fingers tapping against his knee.

Then the door opened, and Yixing whipped around while Minseok stood up. But it was just Kyungsoo, slipping into the room. He looked at Minseok, then at Yixing.

Then he smiled, closed-mouthed but pleased, and stepped aside. Zitao came into sight, and within a second his arms were filled with Yixing. They exchanged watery whimpers in their native language, but no one needed to know the language to hear the overwhelming relief and love. It was etched into their voices, the giant smiles that split their faces. Kyungsoo gestured for Minseok to follow him out of the room. They shut the door behind them to give the couple a chance to catch up in private.

More than any guilty verdict, Yixing's smile was a win.

"My job is the most stressful thing sometimes," said Kyungsoo as he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in front of him. The smile still played at his lips. It was a good look on him, Minseok decided. "But shit like that is why I do what I do."

"It feels like everyone's getting their happy ending, doesn't it?" Minseok asked, mimicking Kyungsoo's pose. "We're almost done with this case. It's been a long time coming."

"That's an understatement."

Kyuhyun, Luhan, and Soojung had been given their sentences just the week before. Kyuhyun and Luhan had already been incarcerated. Their list of wrongdoings had given them enough years imprisoned that Minseok doubted he would be hearing from either of them again. Soojung had fled the country before she could be apprehended herself, but they had a good tip that led them to believe that she had returned to California, and the SMPA was working with the local authorities there to capture and return her. As far as anyone knew, she didn't have any jopok connections there. Minseok had faith that she would be brought into custody soon enough.

"We should celebrate this," Minseok said.

"Celebrate?"

"Yeah. I mean, it's been months, and we're basically done. There are only a few more things to wrap up. How do you feel about going out for drinks? I know a good place."

Kyungsoo agreed easily, and they even convinced Yixing and Zitao to join them, all of them piling into Minseok's car. Minseok texted Sunyoung too, asking her if she wanted to meet them there. She promised to be there within half an hour.

As they pulled into the hotel parking lot, Zitao tilted his head, eyebrows scrunching. For someone who looked so severe, he was awfully cute, with his childish expressions and soft voice that matched Yixing's to a T. "You do know that this hotel is owned by . . . ?"

One of the corners of Minseok's mouth quirked up. "Not anymore. Soojung owned this one directly, so with her out of the picture, it didn't go back to the Yongsung-pa. The hotel manager legally owns the hotel now, and the bar manager owns the bar."

The bar manager was no longer Victoria, though. Her own fate had been settled outside of court, sparing her an official sentence. But a part of the settlement terms was surrendering control of Elyxion.

The scenery when the elevators opened was slightly different than usual; the lights had yet to be dimmed, and because the time was earlier than Elyxion's hours of operation, the sky visible through the glass dome was still purple, pink, and gold. The candles were unlit, and the white lights above the liquor display were turned off. Elyxion was softer like this, buoyant, even, the smokey colors and sensual atmosphere abandoned in favor of something more delicate.

"Hey, we're not open for forty-five more minutes," a familiar voice called. Yixing, Zitao, and Kyungsoo hesitated, but Minseok grinned and kept on walking.

"Aren't you? I thought the fine print on your deed said that I could come in whenever I want."

Jongdae peered around the liquor display, a grin on his face. "No one actually reads the fine print, so it doesn't count. Get the hell out of my bar."

By now, the others had begun to creep forward, emboldened by the familiar exchange, while Chanyeol rounded the corner after Jongdae. "Who are these guys?" Jongdae asked, slipping an arm around Minseok's waist as he peered inquisitively at Minseok's company, and they exchanged names in a cheerful introduction.

"We're celebrating the end of this case," Minseok told Jongdae.

Jongdae let out a resounding " _Finally,_ " to the enthusiastic concurrence of the others. "Sit down. Tonight, drinks are on the house for all of you."

A handful of seconds after they had seated, Sunyoung stepped out of the elevator, cheeks and nose red from the chill outside. "Hey, sorry I'm late." She looked around at the group. "Oh, wow, Minseok, I thought Jongdae and I were your only real friends."

Minseok let her have that, because up until recently, she wasn't wrong. Over the babel of introductions and drink orders, Chanyeol planted his elbows on the counter and leaned forward. "Hey, hyung. I have a lawyer joke for you."

"Can you please not," Jongdae whined. He pushed a shot glass of soju over to Minseok, his smile hidden from Chanyeol but in plain view of Minseok.

Chanyeol barreled on. "How many lawyers does it take to change a lightbulb?"

Before he could get to the punchline, though, Sunyoung butted in. "Three! One to climb the ladder, another to shake the ladder, and the third to sue the ladder company."

"Aw, come on," Chanyeol protested, and his distress was what finally got Jongdae to laugh.

Jongdae walked around the counter and invited himself onto Minseok's lap. The din and clatter around them faded away in the wake of the small kiss Jongdae put on Minseok's cheekbone. "I love being my own boss," Jongdae said.

"Oh? Why's that?"

"No one to yell at me for PDA with my hot lawyer boyfriend."

And Jongdae's smiling mouth against his own—that was the greatest victory of them all.


End file.
